Dedicated to the Ninth Ward, New Orleans, LA
I am a house.
In my dying moments, my heaving-creaking, metal-wrenched-torn breaths, I was your house.
And I still am - look, there’s my foundation, hiding in shame beneath the blades of grass, and the water-warped remains of someone else’s house.
I tried, I tried, I tried to protect you, but I apologize, I couldn’t; I wasn’t strong enough.
Please, forgive me.
Break me down, and take my bones from the earth, throw me away.
I hurt underground, and I can’t stand the stench or the fear of disappointing you again.
So cart me away, to a place I’ll never return from, where I can be with the remnants of the other brightly colored houses that were swept away.
And set down a new me.
Build me tall and strong, so I will never, never fail you again.
So I can be a home again.
For you.
For us.