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.
