The Attic

“Who Will Repair This House Of Ruptures?”

I remember something that was said long ago, a speaker

Was reassuring those who had gone through devastation and

Emotional lose.

And I have never forgotten “ Even if you have to hold on with only

Your very finger tips, don’t give up.” Through many sorrows and pain

I have felt like the flames and

Cauldron of heat was about to consume me, with nothing left

But a very small breathe, like a branch being consumed but

“As a brand plucked out of the burning”

The foundation is weak,

Seeking its own level,

Rusty pipes leak, joints


Red climbing roses speckled

With paint, from decades of

Neglect has had its effects

The attic bares the burden of

This house of ruptures, storing

Baggage in rafters…

It is full and ready to blow, it

Has capacity to hold no more

I am hesitant to go in, but that

Is not strange, I left long ago,

It was too much for me, I

Split in two, leaving my child,

A part of me behind

But she followed me in my thoughts

In my dreams I could hear her

Crying, in my nightmares she

Would scream

I can bear it no longer, I have to

Return to claim what is rightfully


Reaching in, I pull her out, now

With me she shall remain…

With such weight, beams crumble,

Into the house they are falling

A soft glow of orange erupts into

Red tongues of fire, consuming

The rooms

A gust of wind fans the blaze,

Until little remains, but ashes and

Dust, and a few childhood

Remembrances, that survived this


The sole of a shoe that once held

My foot, now covered in soot

My pink dress smoldering in

Cinders, a doll looking injured,

With charred eyes and lips, her

Hair on edge with scars on her


A book with singed ruffled edges,

Opened to a nursery rhyme,

“And all fell down”

I am astounded!

Walking through the rubble, I see

What trouble the neglect of this

House has caused

Sitting amidst ashes, tears begin

To fall, this house had been my

Body, the attic my thoughts

I really didn’t want to leave, I did

Not know what else to do, if I had

Stayed, I would have lost my mind.

This house had been deserted,

Intertwined with ropes and beyond


The pain it bore, tore a hole in

My soul, it must be restored,

Hinges and doors must be

Replaced as well as windows

And doors

Who will do this, I must have


Looking to the *Rebuilder of houses

In ruin, the Restorer of destruction

And waste,

A dwelling place for all, He has provided!

Copyright ( 2015)dn

*Isaiah 58:12

Poem from the book ‘Weeping Child

To Forgiving Child’

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