A wise man once said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand,”

But my house is living proof that it can.

It is just a matter of time until the pounding wind blows down the walls, but still

After every storm we are fine; all seems calm.

Until the wind starts picking up again swirling the dust and leaves --

Contagious, how it spreads.

The foundation expects me to stand up tall on my own two feet

But how? 

How can I do so when the foundation itself crumbles beneath?

 

When I was younger I worried.

I was taught that the walls of your home were built to be sturdy,

So when I saw the house tremble and quake, and the roof coming down, flooding the floor, 

I was frightened.

Everything I loved and everything I knew would be swept away with this house.

Now as I’ve grown older, 

I‘ve come to realize that it was okay for a house to fall, to crumble. 

I became used to the destruction. 

These outbursts became natural and subtle.

The quakes became creeks and the floods became leaks; they don’t faze me anymore,

Or at least not on the outside.

Although the pounding wind hits harder on the outer walls, I still feel its force pushing upon me.

 

There is no way of knowing how long this house will stand, but I am sure that it is dividing.

The once bright paints, now dull, peel and flake.

Tiles are cracked and the light burns to a dim flicker.

I will eventually leave my home, 

but it will still stand as one or divided.

But it will stand…

at least in my heart

By Nayeli Marmol, Academy for Allied Health Sciences