My house, and The Way Home (two poems)

My House
Doors
Windows
Floors

Day by day
Settled by fine layers
On every
Plane

Here a song
There laughter
Lonely tears and fears
In midnight vigils

Polished to high gloss
By hands and hands
And years
Of
Here a touch
Here a stroke

My house
Time
Love
People.

The Way Home

There are pitfalls.
They are deep
No light
Follows you
When you fall
No path lies
Lit by warmth,
Warmed by love
To lead you out
Because
There is no out.
And you sit
Engulfed by old
New strange forgotten
Fears
And no one to fight them

Until,
One drop
One tiny bead of hope
A remembrance
There was One
One who walked
This way
All ways
And needs only
Hear
One small word
And
Beam by beam
His light will
Bring you home.

Ann Whitaker