Getting Through A Strained Fence

Approach it as you would a work of art.
Relax. Just be yourself. Then you can start
to see the fence for what it really is –
not some correctness test, an entry quiz
that leaves you wiping culture off your face –
but standard lines held truly in their place
by grey-box posts plugged into common ground.
Don’t worry that the highest line is crowned
with barbs to stop you going over it,
they’re only there so people will submit
themselves to bending down when getting through –
like daily prayer, the humble thing to do.
Indeed you wouldn’t think a fence like this
was worth it if you didn’t have to miss
at least a couple of the seven deadly sins.
The life of penitence often begins
this way. By bending underneath your pride
the change is more than just a change of side.
The most effective way of getting there
is with and awkward almost-roll. Prepare
yourself by turning sideways to the lines,
then stick your left leg out so it aligns
with them just slightly lower than your waist.
You’ll notice that they’re all precisely spaced
and that the gaps don’t look like they’d expand.
But if you take the middle lines in hand
and use your other leg as one linchpin
you’ll squeeze your horizontal body in
between the curving contours that you’ve formed.
Just there you might appear a bit deformed
caught up and bent forward like someone hurt,
and forced uncomfortably to face the dirt
for what will seem a drawn-out length of time,
though that passes as soon as you can climb
out through the gap and stand up straight again,
unfolding in an instant to regain
the balance that your body put aside.
From that moment you’re on the other side.
A whole new paddock opens up its realms
of greener grass, the prospect overwhelms
you with its possibilities, and while
you fold your arms and try to reconcile
the future with the past, the present fence
still stands behind you making perfect sense.

– Philip Hodgins, Up On All Fours (1993)