That Big Yellow House

This is the House that God built,

That big old yellow house with crickety stairs.

I wonder how many feet have walked

Up and down these stairs.

Some carrying suitcases,

            some carrying boxes

            some just only carrying

            brown paper bags.

Some carrying nothing, but

            the clothes on their backs,

            that only resemble dirty,

            filthy rags.

This is the House that God built,

That big old yellow house.

Two big rooms

            with four beds each

With brown wooden floors

            that will make your shoes squeak.

In each room with four

            beds that lay

            the walls have heard

            so many women cry out

            from internal pain.

Some jumped for joy on the bed

            because they felt like

            they were saved

            from a life among

            the living dead

            that consumes its prey.

Saved from the bitter cold

Saved from the unbearable heat

Saved from walking endlessly

            on blistered feet.

This is the House that God built,

That big old yellow house.

That funny looking bathroom

            that was built above

            that housed the most

            unusual healing tub.

I wonder how many women have been in that tub?

Some will start to shudder 

as the water wells up into tears

Because now the women have realized

            they have sold their souls

            for many, many years.

They see the countless

            faces of the dirty old men,

The not-so-nice

            church-going women

Who only pretended

            to be your friend.

They remember the beatings

            the rapes that happen over

            and over again

Because each time

            you close your eyes

            you live it

            over and over again.

This is the House

            that God built,

That big old yellow house

            with the two different

            dining room tables

            that matches

            nothing about.

Here they will find

            the family they seek

            among different women

            whom society calls weak.

Here in the dining room

            with all the different chairs

            the women will embrace

            each other’s pain

            with empathy and

            a delicate flare.

Here the healing starts

            while the women

            cook and eat

            in an atmosphere of love

They have all been

            brought together

            in the house built out of love.

This is God’s house,

            can you feel it?

            can you see?

He has great plans

            for all of us.

Just don’t pick up

            and you too shall see.

We are wounded arrows,

            broken,  but not discarded

            or thrown away.

We are being mended

            to help others find their way.

I am so grateful

            that God lit the way

            and kept that

            old yellow House

            open for me on that

            God-sent October day.

There is nothing I would not do

            for the Hope House— you see

            because they helped me

            to become

            the African Queen

            I was destined to be.

This is the House

            that God built

That big old yellow House

            with crickety stairs!

By a Hope House graduate

Summer, 2004