House of Cards 




Though her windows
Are always closed
And curtains drawn

The sunshine of a child's
Laughter reaches from afar
To touch this mother
Now withdrawn
Within

Tears fall from distant eyes
Upon her house of cards
As wordless cries breaking
Apart her peaceful facade
Disillusion her sanctuary
Of haunted contentment

She reaches into her box
Taking out the lock of hair

Closing her eyes
Shutting her windows
Curtains now drawn

Through fingers
Twirling her hair
That never rests
Her head cannot
Be laid to rest

Never to be
Laid to rest

Twirling

Withdrawn once again
Systematically she begins
To reclaim her silent refuge

Rebuild her house of cards
Create a more suitable home

For her daughter
To live outside

Of her forever silence 


*   *   *   *   *   *



Author Notes:


Me Mum has always been intrigued by the way I always seemed 
so completely content as a child, especially when I had a deck
 of cards at me disposal. So content in fact that I never seemed to 
want or ask for anything at all. I'm still that way in the 
sense that I  rely on me mind to keep me entertained. 

She always says that she has yet to hear me say that I am bored. 

Aye, if yer bored, then yer boring, 'eh?


As a child, I wouldn't talk unless I absolutely had to until around 
the age of eight, my quietude earned too many doctor visits, 
but when yer juss don' wanna talk, there really is no cure. 
According to Mum starting as a toddler, I would sit fer hours 
and play with a deck of cards, looking at the images each card 
depicted and laying them out in front of me in various patterns, 
but never bending or losing a single one of them.
Later on, around the age of four, she said was when I started 
to build houses out them, and as my skill at this progressed, 
so did the number of decks of cards, usually four decks 
would keep me busy fer a few hours. She also said that if they 
fell while I was building them, she would get so upset, 
especially if someone else knocked them over on purpose, 
but I never seemed bothered or upset at all when they would fall, 
rather I would juss start over. 


When I asked her to go with me to shop fer a coffin, 
at first she was shocked that I asked her fer anything at all, 
and tol' me she's been waiting/wanting fer me to do such 
fer basically me whole life, but was also very saddened 
by the fact that when I finally did reach outside meself fer her 
that this was me request. Then she said she would go with me if 
I would try to explain how me mind would go about finding 
contentment if I were in her shoes and lost a daughter who acted
 juss like I have all me life. Oi! That's a tough un I told her, 
but the look on her face told me that me request wasn't exactly
 an easy one either. 

On 'coffin day', she spoke a lot about me house of cards 
I used to build, she said she would love to find the same kind 
of contentment I seemed to have while building them, 
especially if the coffin was going to wind up being put to use. 


Believe, it was an intense moment, heavy 
so I told her let's juss go shoe shoppin' 
instead of coffin' shoppin'. 

Aye, laughter, me favorite rhythm... 


She kept askin' me stuff about me mind, how it works 'n' such.
Odd questions I thought, questions I wasn't really even sure 
how to answer, but knew I couldn't juss tap dance around 
them like I normally do when I talk to her about 
meself and me thinkin' thoughts. 


See when yer a kid who never talks, yer get
tired of bein' asked what yer thinkin' about all the time 
so yer mind sort of pre-selects/creates a few concepts to pass 
off instead of the truth as to not disrupts yer conceptual chase. 

Anyway, the other day while I was starin' blankly into space (again), 
this is how I saw me Mum if me coffin was to be put to use. 


And I wanna tell her the way my mind really works fer once, 
regardless how whacked or disturbing my mental process may 
seem to her or to anyone else fer that matter. 

Sorry me notes here are so long; 
nothing's ever simple it seems.

Thank yer very much fer reading me thinkin' thoughts.


'Anna