In my house are many rooms..

A room of dreams—
wherein is found the essence of
who I wish to be.
For a man's dreams define him,
while his life's work may not.
In this room can be found old
poems, pieces of music, art,
empty bottles of cheap wine,
dusty old books read
time and time again.

A room of the soul—
where I cry out to God and
await His reply,
offering up my prayers,
my worries and my fears.
A space filled with old icons,
writings of a spiritual sort,
plaster statues , old Bibles,
hand worn rosaries
and frayed holy cards.

A room of shadows—
where are stored the darker things:
death, failure, regret,
locked tightly and well-guarded,
its key tucked safely away.
All contents stored in boxes;
little tombs of painful memories,
covered with sheets of white;
shrouds to hide the decay,
closed to all viewing.

A room of desire—
walls lined with prints and pictures
of old flames and lovers,
some weeping and some laughing.
Here are love's lost mementos:
locks of hair, bottled perfume,
various articles of lingerie,
crumpled sheets of paper—
tear stained letters of lament
and lovesick lines of poetry.


A room of reality—
no trimmings or trappings here,
nor plush carpet or paint.
Unadorned and simple but for
a single large mirror,
that wherever I may saunter
or what room I wander into,
or mood might possess me,
I see myself as I am.
This is my least favorite room.

A room of hope—
waiting to be filled with peace
and  good things yet to come;
things that may not be possible,
yet seem attainable.
Decorated with the promise
of happiness and contentment,
painted in wishful colors;
soft hues of faith and resolve,
with large windows to the future.

A room of the heart—
where I spend most of my days.
The center of my house.
Here are found my dearest treasures;
the thoughts of my children
and sweet memories of their lives,
filled with sweet aromas of
who they are and what they have become,
their trials, triumphs and beliefs
and their wonderful gifts to me.

In my house are many rooms…

of light and shadow,
of the joy, gladness and tears
through countless minutes, hours, days
and nights that shape a life.
Listen to the whispers of the past
echoing through its hallways.
Though it may seem a bit cluttered
or filled with so many useless objects
and perhaps not to your liking,
please know you are always welcome.