Guarding the Boarder

I am a border guard with no guns, I

guard borders from unwanted intruders.

Right now I sit inter-face to watch news

and visit friends, while monitoring who

can enter, how and why. My control freak

rules like never before to guard my soul

and protect she from unwanted visits—

trespassers, really, in sacred spaces.

Other times empathy opens her gates,

and the eyes of the day's supplicants are

passports for their souls. They are welcome in

my borderlands, the places I call home,

refrigerator, bathroom, living room,

washing machine, microwave, WiFi and

purse strings—leaving only bedroom for me,

bedroom, music and seat at the table.

In this temporary sanctuary

time holds its breath. I am a border guard

without weapons, rich in space. I pour out

money—not enough—10s and 20s. I

let go of things, a freedom apparent

when I resume control, watching for change

once-foreign cultures and animals make.

I record and celebrate every day.

And look to friends who know 

they are guardians too.

For NaPoWriMo  Day One:  "I’d like to challenge you to write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – one that typically isn’t done all that often, or only in specific circumstances. For example, bowling, or shopping for socks, or shoveling snow, or teaching a child to tie its shoes."

My blog poems are rough drafts.

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     © 2020 Susan L. Chast