Sanctuary

Make home a sanctuary,

with gratitude,

with attention,

to the shiny dishes,
to the new dishwasher,

to the subsiding vise grip
of needling swelling,
to yoga after sleep,
to the dark cocoon,
to holding still wakefulness,
in the middle of night noise,

to the agenda-free haven,

to the deep and dark, black and white flicker,

of Gregory Peck or Tyrone Power,
minus commercialism, complaints, combats, compromise.

Attentive to making a safe place,

a refuge, an asylum, a shelter, a haven .

(my 3 teenage boys are gone for a week, can you tell?)

Not For Sale

Reunion

I woke It up.
It was resting and waiting,
Empty for so long.
I opened it up,
Gave It some air.
It breathed.

Thinking I was alone,
I caressed each room.
It startled me
By playing sounds of life,
Frightening me into the certainty
I wasn't alone.

Taking it apart
brick by brick,
(might as well be)
Erasing personal clutter, & worn foot-paths
So that strangers will
Assess It's worthiness.

Even when we'd taken back everything,
It birthed up more for us to cradle.
Out of the farthest corners of rusted-paint-cans, rat-crap,
chewed-cardboard-beetle-beds:
Grandbabies' photos, wedding planners,
Hand-made Father's day cards, a favorite uncle's watercolors.

It never stops
creaking, moaning, humming.
Habitation.
(Why should an empty home sound uninhabited?)
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-Holidays make me miss my mom, and seek my siblings
This was written a year ago, july, amidst a crying break in the middle of shampooing the carpets of my old home. This theme seems to be emerging with fellow writers this month. -Peace
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-all rights reserved, 2009