The House

It's the knowing that everything happens for a reason that makes you feel so small so insignificant
it's the fact that you didn't have a choice in the matter
it's the fact that there is nothing you could've done nothing to stop it that makes it so much worse
yet so much more bearable

You imagine how it would have been for them to find the crimson stained letter and see her lying beside it
how it must have been for them to find him with the chasms in his chest the life sucked from them and
the bodies of those children lying in their sheets

It's the why of leaving everything you know
of leaving behind your place, your home, to be present in a place that frees, detaches, untethers.
Why would you?

Why do people change? Why do circumstances change? Why does the world change?
And it's in these small moments between then, before and
now that you begin to grasp…
because the only time the world truly changes is if someone flies, someone cries or someone dies

You now understand that everything happens for a reason and that every pebble, every stone, every boulder creates a ripple and
whilst that house was one of murder it was also just a house
and there is something more to us than we first see and
you now see that
we made that house into a home and those
sanguine walls into walls of turquoise and gold