Hands heavy with hammer and pry bar
rip away layer after layer.
Spoiled drywall and laminate
gather in a heap of uselessness.
From old wood disturbed,
charred lumber against saw blade,
the dust that cakes on skin
the smell of childhood drifts.
Novel foundations set one tile at a time
after soundlessly pleas for council
of a voice that cannot be heard
but felt. Tiny grains of grout fill the gaps.
A thin liquid protects the weakness
that is both stone and human.
Memories, forgiveness, and courage
sealed in a room we built together with my hands.
Written and shared for #OLN at dVerse, come to the pub and verse on.