Too soon,

too late,

my house is stripped

and all that is so dear

is laid bare,

like the casting of lots

over the poor things of Jesus

that were worth nothing at all.

 

Too soon

all the precious things,

all the treasures kept

for another day,

are gone,

and disappear like

brown leaves on a windy day.

 

Too soon

even the house itself

will be gone,

with its ghosts and memories

and all of love and pain

that existed there

in the brief taper we call life.

 

26/3/2017