Best Poems Written by Fiona Glenn-Keough

The House That Raised Me

I was built like the old oak table—
steady, bearing the weight 
of voices heavier than mine.
They spoke of storms I didn't start, 
left me to sweep the broken glass 
as if my hands weren't small, 
as if they hadn't splintered already.

They stitched a story from my silence,
painted me in wildfire shades,
called it defense when they fanned the 
flames.
I learned early to bite my tongue, 
to carry the years like a second spine.

The house rattled with its ghosts, 
whispering of what I owed.
Gratitude, obedience, a softer voice—
but never a door of my own to close.

And it I ask for air, for space, 
the walls moan in sorrow, 
sagging beneath their own weight, 
as if I had built them.

Copyright © Fiona Glenn-Keough | Year Posted 2025