In my shadow
there is a basement
claustrophobic enclosure, growing, constricting
no light penetrates that basement
that does not start from within
from the center of my being
a dim spark to camp fire
begins to warm and dry
tears sweated from its foundation
how could I embrace you
shall I use my ears
will my heart be of use
what about my feelings
are these the tools of remodel?
a new coat of paint will not do
it is time to brick and mortar
solidify those chinks,
better yet: tear them down completely!
Tomb becomes room,
and room into house.
can I expect others to meet too?
Do you see?
I see me
I would like to meet you there,
to share our basement stories,
someday, in life's attic.