It used to be.
When you stand on the sidewalk,
Look inside my house: there was one blank wall.
White. Blank. Wall.
I used to think
People walking past could notice.
They would say…
That isn’t a home. No one lives there.
Everyone walking by
Noticing the absence of presence. I began rearranging,
An unconditional life. One peace
Needs to be revealed. I cleaned every closet
And I moved furniture. Three times
My wait — sudden conclusion.
Down a long empty corridor
Now rests a rocking chair.
A lullaby motion
To help you
Get your rest.