No Roof Above Us

No, you can't go.

Don't argue with me, boy.

When you're paying the bills around here,

Then you can argue.


My head was bowed.

As I relaxed in my resignation,

The roof disappeared.

I felt nothing like amazement.


He must obey the Law which governs us all,

The Presence in the pale blue sky

Of wispish clouds above us

Made clear to me,

Made clear to me also

That we all must obey It,

Obey It and be free.

I was fourteen.


Only pale blue sky and white, drifting clouds were there. And in them was a Presence which did not speak to me in sound but conveyed to me still that I was no longer just an inhabitant of that house, that I was divine, one with Itself, and that soon the Presence would provide for me another home on the earth, one free of the alcohol which ruled my parents' house. Within a year, I was in that other home, a home with people who loved me selflessly, who provided me with peace and order. I must witness however that nothing on this earth is perfect and that one of those who served me -- my Latin teacher for three years and guide through Cicero and Virgil and by me dearly beloved -- had a drinking problem. Like the poor, booze is always with us.