Sorry, Wrong House

Here’s a poem I wrote at lunch. I wrote it after hearing “The Guest House” by Rumi.

Sorry, Wrong House

The first guests pick their way between the carrots and nearby calendula, and I smile over my tea, thinking about the garden’s soft brown earth.

Abiding joy knocks first and my smile meets hers for a moment as the door opens. I gently set the honey in front of her and she spoons some sweetness into her stoneware mug, happy to be closely observed.

Malice does his usual hammering on the door, but he can’t seem to barge past me this time. I invite him to pull some weeds and I’ll watch carefully, learning through the windows.

Peace and Patience, Clarity, Love sip tea as my guests, while Greed and Resentment, Fear, and Anger skulk and thrash about outside, getting a lot of work done in their new jobs.

We slip quietly outside to take a look, and Death waves lightly to me from beyond the fence. I hug him and he gives me a ride to the market.
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~ by fourstar on August 31, 2005.

2 Responses to “Sorry, Wrong House”

  1. Can he drop me off at Cafe Carlos after dropping you off?

  2. Well, actually he prefers either El Faro, or Tucson Taqueria.

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