Home Repair

 

Home Repair

 

The house we have lived in

May be more hollow than we knew:

Cobwebs in the corners

Blowing into plain sight.

Skeletons in the basement,

We thought forgotten

Or buried too deeply

Now wake and walk,

Wagging accusing fingers,

That we may heal past hurts

And allow them to rest easy.

We are in arrears to generations.

 

Was this house built on rock?

How solidly do we stand?

The footing I thought I knew

Is challenged from on high,

And from the lowest depths.

The fissures in the foundations

Exposed to sight

And the burrowers are busy.

Very busy.

 

Is our house so ramshackle?

Can it be shaken down

By the most imperfect?

By children so wayward

That consequence for brazen misdeed

Committed in the light of day

Become acts to celebrate?

Allowed and seen as strength

Instead of the craven corruption

That eats at the walls

And the flooring

That the weaker among us

Require that they too

May sleep in peace.

 

Still, our house stands yet!

Though the vermin run in the walls -

They are running.

For they have torn open enough

That they have exposed themselves,

And have yet to understand

That the hunters are awake,

And the only place left to hide,

Are the corners

They have backed themselves into.

 

In exploiting the weaknesses in our house

They have shown us where the repairs

Are most needed,

That we may shelter

From the storms

We sometimes create for ourselves.

The storms will rage.

But our house stands yet.

We stand yet.

 

Cliff Lake 8/15/2023

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023