Poem: My Home
My body is a house that creaks a bit
loudly. The foundation is tilted. The
basement has mold, The facade no longer
knows how to stand straight. But this house loves me.
It only ever tries to keep me safe.
My body is a house that asks of me
little. It prays for food; it flourishes
with rest. It lives not for its sake, but mine.
“Help me love you,” it asks. I don’t always.
It loves me anyways.
My body is a house that I live in
for now. I hope that when it lies quiet
empty hollow and still
it knows that I loved it.
And my body hopes that when I move on,
I know it did everything in love.