I watch, helpless,
as the house crashes
down around me.
Piles of fallen bricks
block my way to other rooms,
but to path to the door is clear.
I could leave.
But once I walk through the door,
the house will be gone.
I won't be able to come back.
And I don't know what's
beyond the door.
But I could leave.
I slowly make my way
through the rubble and,
with my hand on the doorknob,
I turn to look back at my house.
Everything I know is here,
Buried under the debris.
With a heavy sigh,
I let my hand fall from the knob,
and I pick up a single brick,
and begin to slowly rebuild.
(Contemplation, 2001)
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