Here are two poems about home. Where is home for you?
Satisfaction. The dark wood
warming beneath the rub of damp cotton,
the groan and creak of old bones
sliding across oak floors to an empty wall
warmed by sun sifting through snowfall –
drifting through pane upon pane of glass
the curtains half-pulled back to glance
at the courtyard’s crumbling face.
Is this why I feel belonging here?
touched by sun and snow –
by the light filtering in through sun and snow,
through the eyes of the guest
who has the audacity to grease a gleam
into the cracked credenza, into the wardrobe
with a broken door.
The song of old wood filling new spaces
fills me too, and I sing as I work,
drawing out the shine, reinventing
the place I live.
The elements of my life
surround me now
in the house of elements,
where all is still and good and
sturdy as a ladder-back chair.
where air and books
and work and prayer
give life a grip as firm as
though I am the questioner
who seeks sure-footing
among the white and beautiful
of this house that is built –
as God’s house surely must be –
of the space between
In silence, at night, I seed
(c) Andreana Lefton