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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.
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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