A big muddy slip,
and the pile of muddy blankets —
everything we own is
covered in other peoples' lives.
The perfect picture of humanity —
this is proof that there are so many of us,
so many trinkets,
so many belongings,
so many things and people
blown about in the wind.
I've heard people talk about
taking our problems and putting them in a pile —
today, all of our lives are in this
sixty-foot high stack of debris.
It will never be a house again —
no homecoming here.
It will never be what it once was,
and we'll never be certain
that the doors and the shingles and
the windowpanes and the bricks
won't give way once more.
Someday, these houses
will feel less like sandcastles
and more like homes.
