why do you,
check into the guest house/ghost house of my mind
sweep open the door; sweep up the verandah
early morning antics of clarifying the nightmares
of tantalizing images of wild abandon with you
peek in the corners; stare at the broken furniture
smashed windows; scattered images
early morning madness of broken wings,
Picture of window by Ray Flanagan
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Imagined for mlmm Writing Prompt 187, Collage 34 – The Guest House
@ lorraine & her frilly freudian slip