Experiencing “Nothing left but Love”

The dance
I walk down the hall with eyes closed
Hands on the wall sliding, guidin my way
To the glass pain door window
I slowly slowly turn the nob
For the glass makes it very loud
I look in three directions
Choose one to my left
And I run down the stairs
And into the living room I am dancing
And jumping on couches
I am chasing ben and covering him with the yellow blanket
I am in the kitchen drinking
Shmoozing and stealing bites of the most delicious
Pot luck offerings
I walk to the front porch but I cannot get out
The door it will not budge
There is no door only a caved in roof
Covered in soot and char
I climb up the stairs but they fall underneath
I climb up the stairs as it crumbles
And holding on for dear life I find myself back in the hall
And close my eyes and gain my calm
And walk forward to the door and take the right instead
I walk through the bathroom and into my parents room
Dodging puddles inspecting the black soot
On everything slide a finger across my fathers mantle
Black finger
And into my room I walk and traipse each daring step through it’s scorched remains
I ponder each blackened bit of this and paint the room
Colors in angst
I ponder each structure
And in anger
And in sadness
I rage in the destruction of the destroyed
Kicking all manner of things
Throwing bits of furniture into other bits of furniture
I cut my desk in half with a mighty blow
And the impact shakes the room
As it crumbles to the floor below
And it falls upon me
Weak and wounded I remove the rubble from my self
The woodpiles of the basement cushioned my fall
Through two stories of queen Anne
And tiptoe barefooted around each rusted nail or wrench
Every splinter stake of wood to reach the stairs
And I climb
I climb stairs
Stairs upon stairs
Hand over feet
I look back down the hall

The night my house burned down my sister walked alone into the dark, she needed a place to hide. I found her in the baseball field at the pines, our hilltop park, and sat me down and sat with her and tried to rob her soul of guilt and tried to take away the ache I felt her body feel inside. My brother came and laid next to us, and we gazed up at all the stars, as friends made calls to find us in the extinguished fire light. We went and were merry, drank and joked a lot, we had nothing left to but to be happy, and we returned to the pines again and sang and danced and played in moonlight, and when the sprinklers came on I knew there was no time for sadness but of the greatest joy of life, we had braved a fire storm that stole our home but we were all alive, there was nothing left after the fire but the chance to love and to live more brilliantly a life. I invite you to this dance of ours to come celebrate the miracle it is to be alive.

I can’t recall quite when it was when it hit me that my home was gone, and all the talking all the thinking I could muster could not measure up to the clean and sobering fact that I had no home to claim as my own. People don’t understand what you mean by total loss and the best of them know this, that they can’t fathom what it means to lose all you’ve had but the clothes on your back and a few scraps you’ve kept in your office, in your car. What can possibly measure up to everything you’ve ever owned. The good thing is that everyone is safe, that everyone is ok, bit really we’re not, we’re all aching inside from this displacement like refugees from our mother home only there is no one to blame here, no fighting no rebelling against to win it all back. It might as well have been a bomb blast, something bombast that shocks and terrorizes with clarity and meaning, something that made more sense than a hot day and an old home, something maliscious something with intent, that we could pinpoint and say this is why, this is how my home became rubble that day. Freak lightning a sign from god, perhaps it was his cigarette that lit our house afire, but why god why? What lessons lay here in the remains of something so 18 grand. What was it that I said that tipped the balance in the devil’s scale to Launch a Jobe attack? A cunning bet on the house of Soldati, you’ll find we’re that much harder to kill, and to deter, you’ll find we’ve so much more fight than war, we’ll smother with love our enemies, we’ll wine and dine them to their core, the most hospitable hospital for the strange the weak the poor.

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