Patti's House

photo: 123rf.com

Patti's House

I don’t live in the house anymore
with no exception except to clean it now and then,
when I can dig deep, wade through dust bunnies who play again
on baseboards that tend now to be covered with webs,
where scary creatures live on floors ~ the ones I allowed to creep through doors
I have a new perception of how to live inside my annex ~
the extension of myself I found on the other side,
of the walkway that bridges me to my soul
It’s not always fun working so hard,
but my appreciation comes with the cleansing,
dispensing what I’ve outgrown
on thin veneer splitting me from my heart ~
my cover around stained walls,
separating me from the part I can’t live in anymore
where moss grows it’s tentacles in thick piles on bricks ~ the ones I laid
It never paid in the long run to ignore the dirt, the silt
not for long anyway in the house I built,
where plaster chipped with memories hurt
I steam cleaned everything this time where old growth grew thick
In hunched positions I survive because I thrive when I clean
My wisdom gleaned from scrubbing,
rubbing myself against new places,
truths now I can face in slow but even paces
When I’m done I will live as one
But for now I’m working on the stuff I have gathered ~
shoes, dresses, skirts ~ and some wounds I wore,
rather than in the house where I don’t live anymore

I love you,

Linda