This House

This House

Sits up on a hill

with steps of stone

in the dark

 wavering eyes stare down from the towers

the bats lie waiting in the eaves.

 

In this house

the memory of murder

replays in the walls

the secret dead

are living

in these unhallowed halls.

 

In this house

the line between the living and dead has been crossed

the tenuous universe between

tangles upon the thinnest thread

open the door,

dare face your deepest dread!