Repairing the House

We’ll learn the house can live
without our changes. We will
 
listen to its language. The cracks
along the stairway—they are sentences.
 
We will read what they say
when we go up, again when
 
we walk back down. When we
leave our sleep, our beds will hold
 
our place as the floor creaks under us.
If we fix the broken window, then
 
we will open it. The other windows
rise on their tracks; that’s enough;
 
one staying shut, tight, will still bring
light for the day, the others the breeze.
 
And we will learn to be with the ivy
straying along the back brick walls,
 
twisting itself into the mortar, each spring
a chunk or two falling into the holly.
 
There is a draft under the porch door.
We could block the cold from sliding
 
toward our feet. Instead, we will wear
socks, ones you made, while we sit facing
 
each other, reading on the sofa, its stuffing
shifting under us, pillows giving way to what is left.

Through the 3rd Eye was supported in its inception by the Grand Rapids Humanities Council and is currently made possible by continued volunteer effort and private support. Copyright 2013.