Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Poem: Restoration


The walls are rugged and bare,
worn brick and fragile mortar,
with raw cypress beams overhead.

Outside, paint is peeling
and the slate shingles are worn
with two centuries of battle

against rain and snow,
gray with age, chipped,
yet defiant.

Inside, you stand,
seeing not what is,
but what was, and what could be

with time, and work,
love and prayer,
how from this wreck

of a life, something
marvelous emerges,
a home for the heart

more glorious than the original
because of, not despite,
it's resurrection.


The picture is from Poplar Forest, the unrestored half of the house. As my friends know, I like restoring old houses (I'm on my second one now.), so it could have just as easily put up a picture of my place, except my house is not too photogenic yet! You can click on the picture for a larger version.



Shadow said...

the love of the old, the history, the desire to keep, maintain, to refresh and bring back to its original glory... mmmm, that's what drove us to renovate our first home. happy resotrations!

Derrick said...

Hi Tom,

Apart from some 'fragile plaster' maybe, this doesn't seem in need or restoration! But it is good to see how something can be made whole again.

Lyn said...

It's a real talent to see what we can make of things..this interior is so is the poem!