The beams in this house stood 
brethren in the hardwood forest 

co-mingled with the living and 
the dead they were tall until 

they weren't as is the fate of 
all who find themselves here 

wondering how and why and
what next to do, there is no 

choice but to hold up the lintel 
made of our bones and reach

into the place where words fail 
and light is a memory, and we

make peace with our brethren 
and ask for their forgiveness

even though we don't deserve it
and would make all the same

mistakes again, were we given 
half a chance.