In The House I Call Home

Photograph(s) copyright Shaun O’Boyle

 

Last night I said to a traveler

lost on the road that goes by my house:

You could come home with me.

You wouldn’t have to be afraid of

doors the doors that open and close by themselves

Or the way the darkness never moves away from the light

in the house I call home.

Sometimes there is music and sometimes there are footsteps

lively and sure

in the halls of the house I call home.

I’ve been here for a very long time

and

nothing really changes

except for the screaming.

That always sounds the same.

Here In the House I Call Home.