In The House Of Poetry

there is a house where
i am not wanted

but i keep telling myself
i belong here

the lady of the house
snobs me

the others keep their
abhorrence in silence

but i have the stars in my
hand
and so their nights are
dark

i have the moon in my mind
the sun in my heart

my heart is burning
my head is gentle and cool

the house is lonely
and so i must come and live there

i have the right
the lines of my palm
are the maps
of my claim to keep on
living

the house is telling me
about rules

i am silent
the Goddess says

the rule is the Heart
it is open

always open
always open.......

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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