This House

 

                  This House

         This house.
         This house is where I grew up.
         Waited in vain for sanity
                   security, affirmation.

         This house sheltered me in Winter
                   was a prison in Summer.

         This house has seen the impact
                   of seven struggling, anguished lives.

         This house has felt, absorbed, emotions
                   spewed like lava.

         This house is the symbol of dreams:
                   born dead.

         This house crumbles as I sit here
                   and I must let it for I
                   no longer believe I can (or must) rescue all.

         This house is a way-station, a place
                   to catch my breath, sit quiet
                   and listen for what is next.