Sunday, May 31, 2009

Home Safe


I walk across these old wooden floors,
these planks of
Scarred and battered
living.
Life has passed over them.
Many lives.
Other bare souls,
calloused and rough-skinned.
They've trod.
They've felt.
And my toes trace each groove,
the crossover from the silky weave
of the faded carpet
to the cool, rough boards,
the bits of old nail heads
bruising the soft places
so many times
I've lost count.
A sliver here,
A sliver there.
Stains and scratches.
Gouges.
No beauty there...not for the
artist's eye.
But for me
priceless.
Because my bare soul
has found comfort here.
Refuge.
When I walk these floors
I am home.
Safe.


5 comments:

4evergapeach said...

I love the poem Kris! I don't really know what else to say about it. It's just so real.

Judy said...

Beautiful, Kris. Beautiful.

And, I have to say, I just LOVE knowing you are there, in the words of your blog. I doubt we will ever meet 'in person' on this earth, but it is just GREAT to know that there is YOU.

Suburbia said...

Lovely poem, thank you.

How are you?

Liz said...

Lovely!

Dori said...

stunningly accurate...wow. Thank you for sharing this, Kris!