The House of Me
by Elizabeth Stoeckel
I pass by it at the end of the hall twenty times a day,
but today I stopped – really stopped to entertain the image in the full-length mirror.
Today I went to visit the house of me and I met strangers.
I didn’t remember the deep cracks and saggy walls
and I was sure they had not been there long.
They had responded to the invitation to submit,
Invitations sent by gravity and time.
The ravages of outside elements had left the hinges rusted
and the door impenetrable.
The windows in the no longer familiar house were shrouded with thick
dust covered webs of disappointment, loneliness, anxiety and fear.
The house I saw in the only slightly familiar reflection
was no longer a home for faith and wonder,
but a haven for the tired and weary.
You must excuse me now for a while as I tend to some much needed repairs.
While my time spent in the homes and gardens of those I love
was most precious,
I must now turn my focus to the place that is my soul and my home.
The door to my heart has been loosed with the oil of forgiveness,
The webs will be cleared with the life breath of peace,
and the light of hope will once again brighten the darkest hiding places
known only by me.
I hope you’ll be a frequent visitor to the house, the home that is me.
August 23, 2000