Stranger in my own home,
a world utterly familiar changed beyond
One thing changed at a time, until
like the renewal of skin,
nothing remains of the original,
and I don't know what happened.
No safe place to rest,
no sanctuary for this weary pilgrim.
No den that the wayward lion may
return to in the heat of the day.
No peace to be had,
and no way,
shy of burning this house to the ground,
of making it return to how it was.
A simple decision here, an unwilling
and suddenly nothing is how it
and I cannot rest.