“This is home,” by guest writer Jesus Lucero – Who but You? living alone series

Photo credit:  “Dark House,” by Justine (1985)  From http://pixgood.com/dark-house.html
Photo credit:  “Dark House,” by Justine (1985)   From http://pixgood.com/dark-house.html

The door to an empty house swings open
Step inside the comfort of alone
The silence greets me and welcomes me home
No more wind, no more rain
No more sun beating down
but the heat still claims occupancy
when the days of the year are long
No more snow when it decides to come
but the cold still seeps in
through cracks around window frame
when the days of the year are short
No more crowded places
This safe haven blocks me
from the overwhelming pressure
that this world is challenging me to react
by way of word spoken in defense
or, deep down, hoping not by way of fist
Voice and hands clenched in this solitude
soon raised in outbursts of frustration
swinging through the air
telling stories to the walls
that always lend an ear
but offer no resolve
Still, here, I laugh the days into nights
whether out of joy or sorrow or confusion
The cluttered mind crowds reality
Gas station coffee cups overrun the coffee table
Staring through that hoard at flickering screen
until the images blurr as eyelid curtains close
Envelopes of bills, paid and unpaid, litter the couch
befriending any others that have been fed to my mailbox
Scattered about are the pages of written word
The scriptures of a mind overflowing
unable to contain itself
As days jump ahead
Watched the half pot of coffee
The black fluid become canvas to a painting of mold
Kitchen sink clogged with dirty dishes
Trashcan regurgitating onto the ground
In the bedroom
clean clothes mingle with soiled laundry on the floor
These are the days when the house has not been
cleaned
In the attempt to cleanse this home
To clear this mess or to rid myself
of whatever crawls in my chest or tears at my mind
Music blares through speakers
chasing away whatever lurks within
When the time comes to lay me down
The house will go dark
Lying awake whispering prayers
Unable to distinguish which sounds are real
or which ones are only in my head
Is it the house settling
or is there something crawling through the shadows
A knife, a twelve inch blade
used to hide under my bed
Now it sleeps next to me
because the paranoia found it necessary to whisper
that an intruder will pay me a visit
before any family or friend
The only company I’ve kept
are the Daddy Long-legged spiders
because they’re not bothering me
but the Black Widows must remain in the garage
until I catch sight of them
I realize this is my fault
I offer very little invitation
This is my place of hiding
My escape from the outside world
Where I come to regain what I lose
This is where I find serenity
This is home

–Jesus Lucero–
Written 3-1-15

Jesus Lucero is a resident of Rio Rancho, New Mexico and an employee of the Rio Rancho Public Schools as a maintenance electrician.  He has been writing poetry since high school and has found it to be a very dear friend to his heart.  After many years of putting poetry off to the side, he found a second chance to pursue his love of the art.  He has been performing at open mics and slams heavily for the last two years, and has even traveled a few places following this dream.  Recently, he earned a spot on the first Slam of Enchantment slam team.

The poet.  Photo credit:  Jesus Lucero.
The poet.   Photo credit: Jesus Lucero.

This is part of the Who but You? living alone series.  Check out the other posts!  They are published every Monday.

Join the Who but You? project:   e-mail your story, prose, poetry, art and/or photos about living alone to powerofpaperzines@gmail.com for consideration.  Please include a brief Bio.  For more information, click on the Who but You? Project tab at the top of this blog’s main page.  Or, cut and paste or click here:
https://whobutyouproject.wordpress.com/who-but-you-series/

Thank you for reading and therefore thank you for supporting independent storytellers, poets and artists!

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Jesus! I remember this poem! Fantastic to see it in print, so evocative and textured. I love the two photos as well!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. K. Adonna says:

      Evocative is a great word and very true in this case. The words really painted a movie scene for me!

      Like

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