Ode to House

The cripple who stands against Death,

Flames at his heel, feathers on his breath.

An angel in demonic guise,

A messiah disciples despise.

*

Unshed teardrops burn,

The blossoming flower is dark.

For wholeness does he yearn,

The world, now empty, is stark.

*

A home,

But no heart.

A life,

But no soul.

*

Fearless, he stumbles,

A hand he spurns.

Resolute, he grumbles,

The path before him burns.

*

The shepherd with his staff in hand,

Sheep to lead, friends to understand.

A healer broken by pain,

A knight refusing to be slain.