The cabin lay empty on the land,
while animals built their own shelters
around it–the quail under the blackberries,
mama fox in the hollow, the deer in the
pine groves above it.
It was our refuge
from shame for two years.
Before that it housed a young couple
and their baby. After us it was built up,
built onto, discarded. At the last,
it burned to the ground, no longer
sheltering anyone or anything.
I have a certain affection for that place,
haunted by spiders and lizards.
Though I didn’t like to see it abandoned,
I ached inside when it fell to embers.
It was my schoolhouse, where I learned
what millions lacked around me, suffering
the vanishment of meaning, of comfort,
the onset of fear that never lets go.
Other more salutary lessons derived there–
grief must one day end,
love has many disguises,
being alive is its own reward,
beauty hides in patient silence,
awaits the stoppage of tears
to appear in a sudden spotlight
before melting again into shadow.
Life taught me there, to love it, to face it,
not to be ashamed to receive its gifts or its scars,
to carry my name with honor.
Battle ribbons are not more precious.
Thank you, Eva Marie! It was not as grand as the picture!
Awesome poem. The old school house I’m sure holds alot of memories. It’s where we learn about life to. Awesome poem