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
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