shelter
by Marla
If home is where the heart is then let me get rid of the hurt. Let me build a home
where your heart is. Let me build a home for your heart. Let me fill it with sunlight
in the morning, gentle and golden, kissing your eyelashes and chin and saying:
"Today you are new again." Let me fill it with laughter, the kind that makes spaces
less about emptiness and more about promises. Let me fill it with the smell of
sugar and rosemary and freshly-cut flowers. At night let me fill it with softness and
quiet and rest. Let me fill the ceiling with stars, name each one after all the best
parts of you. Let me scour it from top to bottom—scrubbing away the mean edges
that no longer fit—until it gleams with pride. Let the doors know no hate, never
closing in defiance or slamming in anger. Let the floorboards hold your secrets;
let the walls contain your spirit as you dance barefoot on a summer afternoon.
Let every corner hum your favorite song. Let every room learn how to breathe.
