Being

A Poem

Photo by J. Sharland Day

Our being —

A rented space

To house our given souls.

A framework

Of unique construction

That is built but once,

To maintain,

Improve,

Appreciate,

Enjoy.

A privilege.

To many, yes.

A pleasure.

Not to all.

Those recalcitrant in its care

Destroys the lighted interior

Of once warm-filled rooms,

Leaving broken shards

Of glass-strewn emptiness

Rotting,

Unrenovated,

Unrenewed.

Fenced in with

Weeded beds of waste,

Haunted by unheeded neglect,

A structure once strong

Now stands in

Deprecation,

Decay,

Destruction.

Care withdrawn,

Love suppressed,

Gratification renounced,