Mansion on the Hill

I see the headlights cut a line

Off the fabric-covered couch

And hear the sound of tires

Crunching down the road

The fireplace sits cold

While the pipes put up a fight

And I know what time it is

It’s time to go

From up here there’s books

And thoughtfulness

And I can pray my way

Out of the day

If you live up on a hill

Then you can say that time’s not real

You can spend weeks at a time

Without a word

My voice came out yesterday

It sounded lower than I knew it

The ghost of one that used to sing

The specter of those backyard parties

That we used to have

Up on the hill

One day illness comes upon you

And you’re locked up in a room

Hearing sickness make its way

Throughout the house

Your fever spikes

Your eyes close

Your mother checks on you

Just once

Then says a prayer

And softly says ‘Goodbye’

Two months later you look out

Your bedroom door

And all the other doors are open

But there’s nobody in any room

Just closed curtains

Empty wardrobes

Like everybody left

During the night

They left you here

Upon this hill

Either they died

Or ran for it

And thought you wouldn’t make it

Through the night

Black cloth is over every table
Burned out candles

Windows nailed shut

It’s not too long before the town below

Has a funeral for itself

And soon the headlights

Start to circle

A man and his young son

They keep driving by each night

And you put a few more nails

In the door

You’re not interested in reaching out

Your reach just isn’t long enough

To make its way

Beyond the mansion on the hill

I remember when the mill was up

The schools

The shops

The spots in town

That we could look down

From upon the hill

Nobody ever let me

Walk down the hill

Alone

I had to hold the hand

Of whichever watcher

Was watching

That week

You’d take her gloved fingers

And make your way

Past people who’d whisper

That you were from

Up on the hill

Your mother would see you

To the front door

But only that far

She was afraid of the world

And so the world gave her

Even more reasons

To be afraid

In his downstairs office

Your father would smoke a cigar

And take whatever paper was nearby

So he could light it up

And toss it in the wastebasket

Your mother warned him

That one day the whole house would go up

And part of you wondered

If that was his hope

When you’re up on a hill

Nothing can reach you

But the fire department

And so sometimes

You have to start a fire

But when the fire came

It came quietly

And there wasn’t any smoke

To let those in town know

That you were all choking

In your beds

The headlights are here again

Must be that time of night

How nice that a boy

Goes riding in cars

With his father

How nice to know

There are still cars

And reasons to use them

One day I hope

To hear the car pull up

And the engine quit

You have to hope

For something like that

Not because you want it

But because you need

Something to happen

That’s never

Happened

Before