Saying the word I can't. Poem, by Friendship, at My poetic side

The Fence I Didn't Need

For years, that simple, sharp contraction stood,

A tiny, iron staple in my speech.

A prefabricated fence, misunderstood

As prudence, though it only limited reach.

It was the reflex, quick and self-imposed,

The reason why the door remained half-shut,

The easy answer, cleanly pre-disclosed,

The ever-present, self-inflicted but.

Then came the friend—the necessary ear—

Who caught the pattern, pointed out the flaw,

The constant, low-grade language rooted fear,

And held the mirror till I grasped the law:

That every time I used that negative, brief sound,

I was refusing possibilities profound.

And to be honest, searching deep within,

I knew his observation won the day—he’d seen.

So, silence to the word, banishment decreed!

I set about the difficult constraint,

To navigate the want, the rush, the need,

Without the comfort of that quick complaint.

Where challenges arose, where tasks felt steep,

My tongue was tripped, yet fiercely held its line.

If doubt arose from somewhere dark and deep,

I forced my phrasing toward a new design.

I substituted ’twill be difficult,

Or I must seek a different avenue,

Avoiding the obstructive, sharp consult

Of limits that were never fully true.

The world grew strangely, suddenly vast,

The air felt lighter, possibilities spun,

The easy tether of the past was cast—

The small defeats surrendered, one by one.

What clarity! What sunlight newly found!

The silence where resistance used to lie.

No heavy burdens sinking to the ground,

Just open space beneath an open sky.

And at the close, reflecting on the ease,

The simple breakthrough, free from that dull chain—

Oh, what an amazing day upon the breeze

I had, without the saying, “I can’t” again.