The Soul is a House

© Angela Counts

From Tuscany, Italy (July 15, 2009)

The soul is a house
The soul is a house
From childhood
In dreams, lucid
Saturated with wine
The soul is robbed
Day workers, disguised
In daytime, asleep
They come to take
They come early
To look around
But they take
And they remove
One comes home
A little too late
To find ones
Childhood home empty
But don’t complain
It happens lately
But cry, grieve
You will find comfort
And awake you will
Realize the soul
That which is gone
Sold to others, removed
Is forever on your mind
A photo remains
Of dirty beige carpets
And scraps of life
We move into transit
One soul death
At a time, asleep
We lose, awake again
We grieve, and live
Down into the now