Strange how this barrier affects me,
Just a line of posts, and its cross-beams.
How familiar I am this side of the fence,
How alien the other side seems.
For this is mine, and that is theirs:
I stand in my own ground, looking out.
Within this boundary I have certainty,
But the other side summons up doubt.
Kestrels and buzzards fly on regardless,
Enjoying the sky’s common air-space,
Ignoring the obvious separation,
Which I still perceive in this place.
The wildness of the country,
With its plants and creatures laid hidden,
Seems to beckon me forward,
But my mind yet says it’s forbidden.
It seems easy for the eye to wander,
Across fields of grass and thick clover,
But far too great an endeavour,
To actually get up, and climb over.
What fear keeps holding me back?
There is no-one out there to see:
Perhaps it’s the usual paranoia -
Of someone concealed, spying on me.
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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