Am I Getting Through to You?

By John Clifford

Others passing through the wall

seem not to know it’s there.

Yet, I can never overlook

its looming presence.

With my own cold sweat,

I feel

the dampness of its weight.

I swear the wall is there,

between us; it’s strength

more than I can penetrate alone,

its height beyond my scale.

Yet, strangers passing through

wonder why I flail the air.

Tell me that

you

see the bruises on my hands.

– John Clifford lives in Lawrence.