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Poem
These walls are broken, 
termites eaten, the bricks crumbling 
clay, the remains of dust.
was this ever a house, ? 
Their first fire extinct, 
it was never real, 
The early smiles were deception
A makeup never truly made from the heart, 
The haste of amity, the oath of the court.
Soon to end at the court 
She will never let it grow, 
Her stout, domineering rebellion 
The canker-worm of their joys.
Unwilling, unyielding 
The burden 
Friends turned foes, filial bond interrupted 
The external bond beckons and her mind now yielding to ousters 
Calling her back to her long spinster days
As she watched friends build; left to tell their stories as a busybody 
Add her interest in politics and never the trick of a happy home
She will never build hers, 
Envying the world
Seeking approval from strangers
Comparing her journey to mammoth public ovations
Begging bystanders for pity 
Armed to dominate, it must be her way
Unwilling to learn, whining like a toddler 
Anger her weapon, to manipulate to consent of unsavoury standards 
Animosity her sword, a trade well learned and days of embittered recklessness 
Presumptuous, bent on her own ways, ignoring the holy law
Stouthearted. With a hymnbook, with bitter anger seeking mercy 
Her public show, commended by deceived comrade.
As they fight for her in ignorance of her real person at home
A mask of deceit, 
The house is boiling 
Because she takes no instruction and will learn
How wise women make their home
This house is crumbling 
Beyond all redemption 
She was in Court yesterday 
To seek divorce, that is her house of wisdom.
Because she could not sustain the home in humility 
Perhaps a pattern of divorce 
A kindred spirit resuscitated, 
Learn from me, 
Never crown immaturity, 
Especially the hard to teach.
Or honor her for a mother 
She may never know, 
The secret of all mothers 
And may never learn the pattern of sustained home
This house is broken 
It did not grow to become a home
With the Bible in the rain 
This house may never be built
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