House On The Hill
House on the hill barricaded by brick, placed in 1981.
Sheltered by the flood, but bound and bathed
With the anguish of the mourning there.
Mostly by the caretakers of the children,
And then too the children as they grow older.
But they swore never to be like them, and that they would move away.
Across state lines in houses shielded by a sea of forest.
They would stay in touch, but just enough to get away with it.
Just enough to stay out of the mouths of those they ran from.
But close enough to not feel guilt for cutting ties.
One day that house won’t be ours.
It will return to the hill as it was made,
And remain a living relic in the stories we tell, and in our hearts.
Not for the suffering it kept shut inside,
But for the nesting it provided, and the memories that took the shape of us.
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