A Wondering Question Poem by Riley Choma

I often wonder…

If the walls of my childhood home could talk- what would they say?

Would they say "I am sorry you are sad, trust me we understand."?

Perhaps they would say something more along the lines of…
"Toughen up. You aren't the only one that is full of holes."

If the walls of my childhood home could embrace, would they have held me when I cried?

Or perhaps- would they have pushed and slapped him the way he did us?

If the walls of my childhood home could fight back, would they have?

Perhaps they too would have still taken it anyway.

I wonder this each time I enter the door, and often when I am away too.

But then I remember…

If they could do all of these things- they probably would have simply tore themselves down.