The Tape

First of all, love the site. It makes me feel, as a "civilian," that I know more about what is really going on and that I can somehow be a part, or help in some way. I wrote a poem in response to some of the frustration and anger that I read about on the site. Without actually experiencing all of the same things in exactly the same ways, I do feel I understand, in part. Thanks S.A. Wood

The Tape

When anything happens, you string up this “tape.”
There’s your side and my side, and there is no “gate.”

If I can’t get through while you work, that’s OK.
But when you’re not working, don’t send me away.

When it’s all over, your tape won’t come down.
“Do Not Cross” is your message. The tape, it surrounds.

You’re cordoned off, trapped with your private grief.
I’m caught up in your pain, but can’t offer relief.

You’re tied to your silence. That is the crime.
I could help break the code, if you’d give me the time.

* * *

Allow me the freedom (it’s your badge, your call)
To help when you need it. It’s good for us all.

If I don’t understand everything that you mean,
I can still lend an ear, while you sort out the scene.

* * *

With your permission, I’ll cut through the tape.
Give me the chance, so we both can escape.

Don’t fear that I’ll see that you’re not made of stone.
I already know, so don’t go it alone.