What of the Soul? Pts 1-5

WHAT OF THE SOUL               

Part I         
                                     
You have broken panes, walls moldy from rain,
holes in the roof, buckled wood planks,
trash heaped on floors, a busted down door.
Were you orphaned again, discarded once more?

What did you see? Where's your family?
They left you in haste.  Why did they flee?
Did they leave for a new and fancier view?
Did they run from horrors known only to you?

Did a mom with her gin watch TV in the den,
a timid escape from the struggles within?
Was it silent and still, without money for bills?
Were they forced to leave with the closing of mills?

Was it love they taught, improvements they sought
or violence they mentored, through battles they've fought?
Was there fear and despair in the thick, humid air?
What voices, what shouts are still lingering there?

Were the children kept clean, were they hit or demeaned?
Will you share the stories, what you've heard, what you've seen?
Was fear in their faces, did love fill these spaces?
Did emotion, like paint, remain here in traces?

Part II

My curious friend, let me explain. Inside us all, there still remains
sweet sounds of laughter and traces of pain.
I am nails holding wood, you are bones stretching skin,
but joys and horrors, for each, live within.

To me, we're the same, despite failure or fame,
kings and queens, downtrodden or lame.
Our bodies are vessels, the soul is our life.
We can choose our own path, be it gladness or strife.

You asked me to tell of the families I've held.
You asked if they lived in Heaven or Hell.
But I ask you, my friend, what of the soul
who lives inside you?  Is it broken or whole?
                                                                     
Part III

What brings you here? Why mention fear?
Were you describing a childhood of tears?
Was there love or just  pain? Were you left all alone?
Tell me of your parents, were you loved or just owned?

Did you mind or rebel?  Was it Heaven or Hell?
Were your parents evicted or did they just sell?
Did your dad lose his job at the textile mill?
Were they forced to move against their will?

Did you watch cartoons in the living room
or did your mom watch the soaps, escaping her doom?
Did she drink her coffee after cooking your eggs?
Did she work in the diner, then rub her tired legs?

Was there gin in the house, did they sleep or get mean?
Were you watching the door, ready to flee?
Which one was it, your mom or your dad
Who marked you with terror and said you were bad?

You see, my friend, you do seek an end
To the nagging fear that's found you again.
You want to move on, have a family someday
But you need to send your ghosts on their way.

To answer you, the things you asked were true.
But my soul was not made by what families would do
I was saddened by the heartache and I wanted to flee
But through their pain or their happiness, I was still me. 

You must tell the truth, to those close to you,
Be open, be honest, and they will be too,
You are not the evil you were raised to believe
Let go of your ghosts, it's time they must leave.

Part IV

As the moist Southern wind blew past my skin,
I felt a new warmth, it caressed me within.
I looked on the home I fled long ago
and knew it was time to let the fear go.

For I finally see what had happened to me.
I blamed that house. I also blamed me.
But things that went on in my childhood home
were but moments within the life I now own. 

They do not define me; no longer confine me.
My soul once broken is free.
I whispered my thanks to the nails and the planks
that showed me a way through the pain.

You may ask if I know, what of the soul
that lives inside me, is it broken or whole?
Well there's sadness and pride, but there's love still inside
And what I'll become, only I can decide.


Part V

What of your soul, are you broken or whole?
Will you answer this question before you are old?
For you to move on, you must care for your soul.
It is worthy of love, be it broken or whole.



SWPoet
80 Lines