The House Creaks

the house creaks in the dark

like a mother moaning for her lost children

she knows better

she knows why you’re there

to divide the now things

from the yesterday things

from the tomorrow things

but the scales are invisible

and the mind is useless

(because even though you know the answers

your heart grips to hold onto it all)

tears are the real masters now

follow them

they know what to do

don’t be afraid

of the bears in the midnight orchard of your ancestors

you belong among the pear filled branches

you will pick the ones that are sweet in the mouth

the ones that nourish the forever in you

in all of us.

you

are love in action

you

are goodness in our midst

you know where you are

because the house doesn’t really creak

for lost children

but in joyful grief

for the all the beauty that happened there

and needs to move on

to live (elsewhere)

and live on

in us all

(I will never forget the afternoons under the window

the flour of Christmas sweet rolls in the kitchen air

a spatchula handed to me in the dusk

the streaks of the perseids in the sky from the back porch;

that is how I know you will never forget all the things.

It is why you hear the house creak; it is why I know the bears know

who you are)