Under the open sky
Above the patient earth People
build houses.
It is said
Each house
Is a drearn realized
But sometimes people
Are trapped in houses
So they live
Hating each other
And they prison they
Have made
Sometimes one
Is denied entry
To the house
One belongs to
No one knows
Which is worse
To be shut in
Or left out.
Then there are those
Like the wrfinkled woman
Who lives
By selling flowers
By 'the temple. Where is your house
I asked.
Where my children are
She said