The House in Balansa


All tattered and battered it stands
Its unkempt walls lay prostrate
In obeisance to the earthly force.
Yet once, it was high and mighty
Or so we have been told.
With strong encircling walls
Filled with strong women and men.
The cries of infants and the laughters of children
Ever resounded in it.
Now it lies broken, bleeding, untended.

Where are the happy children?
The crying infants?
The strong men?
The diligent women?
They have vanished like smoke,
All their pride and dignity forgotten.
For nothing scatters a house
Like bickering and strife
Separating blood from blood
And root from stem
In vanity, avarice, and envy.



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