Reports from the Bunker

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there’s always laundry, everywhere, in baskets

on the floor, dirty, old, clean or folded

empty cartons, dirty plates, cups with butts

ash and opens bottles and cans

rooms of unpacked boxes and crates

unfinished projects and the tools are

god knows where

There is an art to dodging the mess 

instead of picking it up

one foot here, balance, careful

one foot there and never walk around 

in the dark or run even with the lights

We are tired, lazy and exhausted, 

we bought this house and we fought so hard

but it is strong and difficult and we are beaten

But we laugh, we smile, even when the sun scorches

and it seems as though we live in a giant oven

We dream and we love and there are happy moments to spare

Progress, they say not perfection and ours is slow and 

some days we seems to be sliding back 

but we look to those moments of laughter and joy

of loving and hoping and holding each other 

and when the mess and the debt and hussle

rears up before me like a tsunami’s wave

I close my eyes, I think of the love and laughter

and I hear a song, rumbling out of a graveled throat

“if there is love in a house, it’s a palace for sure” 

and I am safe behind the walls of our ramshackle palace

I am filled with the grace and strength of ten Kings

and I know I will carry on the live, to laugh and love another day.



Written by jamesjanus

July 17, 2012 at 5:07 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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