Poetry

Ode to a Basement
Suzi Wackerbarth

This basement has been one long party:
The candles on my nineteenth cake,
The Easter breakfasts, wedding receptions, Alpha dinners.
Cornerstone began the fest:
We faced the other way and sang choruses to a lone piano.
When upstairs was being beautified, church was here, Lou at the helm--
He could always count on me to laugh at his sermon jokes.

Now we journal, paint doors with glue and candle wax,
Offer communion and community one to the other.
Pray--we always prayed, and this hasn't stopped yet.
Now we have candles and anoint each other with oil.

Basements have always been fun:
When at six I gave Lydia the purple dress and Jesus freckles
During Sunday school.
Making eyes at cute guys across the Bible verses
And singing, always singing.

"They will know we are Christians by our love" was my song,
and I knew I was in the right church
when I worked Saturdays side by side in another basement
Unionly, at Stanton and Negley.

Ode to a basement: this one and my past and future.
Who knew a cellar would be at the root of it all?

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