This Old House

This old house creaks
in the wind, aging rafters sway,
and a storm forces the wood
to turn out of a fear of tornadoes.
Twice struck by lightning ,
twice rebuilt, its dry wood crumbles,
falls downward to earth,
mixing with mortar that has drifted
to the base of the foundation.

Local children pick
at the foundation itself,
carrying off pieces
for building small castles
or for use as missiles
in their latest wars.
I do not stop them for fear
one may be another Frank Lloyd Wright ...
for fear the wrong side may win.

Or I do not stop them because
in the end termite and rat
will move in, colonize
in another example
of Manifest Destiny.
By that time I will have quite crumbled myself,
flesh gone, soul fled, bones unearthed by a nosey dog;
the spider will weave its silk from pelvis to vertebrae,
the worm keep house, the wind and rain bleach my skull
to a pale white.

© Paul Wittenberger 5/31/2018

What We Are

Keepsakes and heirlooms,
greeting cards and childhood toys,
a first kiss, the last goodbye ...

What we are
cannot be kept
like a locket on a chain
passing hand to hand
or heart to heart.

We grow
in the space
between stars
and in that crucible
we find our beginning
and our end,
our journey and
our destination.
We are fuel and fire,
flower and seed,
chicken and egg,
alpha and omega.
We are an endless
breathing of light
across dark waters,
causing stars
to ripple outward
until all circles are joined
into waves
as they meet the shore,
and we are those waves
that pound against stone
and we are the stones
that break the waves,
shaping the shoreline
with every breath,
shaped by what we breathe
and by that which
breathes through us.

Each of us an anvil
waiting for its hammer.

Revolution

Somewhere 

in that summer

we heard drums 

pounding in our ears

and hallelujahs 

swelled the blood

driving it upward 

to dwell in citadels

rising above 

landscapes of desire;

and we forced

those strongholds 

of the heart

to rail against laws 

tacked onto nature

like an afterthought: 

culture and civilization

struggled for release

lost their grip

and a new world

was born