© Angela Counts From Tuscany, Italy (July 15, 2009) The soul is a house Tri-level The soul is a house From childhood In dreams, lucid Saturated with wine The soul is robbed Day workers, disguised In daytime, asleep They come to take They come early To look around But they take And they remove One comes home A little too late To find ones Childhood home empty But don’t complain It happens lately But cry, grieve You will find comfort And awake you will Realize the soul That which is gone Sold to others, removed Is forever on your mind A photo remains Of dirty beige carpets And scraps of life We move into transit One soul death At a time, asleep We lose, awake again We grieve, and live Down into the now
Film and Video | Creative Writing | Non-Fiction and Performance