what I built

I sat for a long time
waiting for help in the wreckage
I called out for mothers, fathers, friends
last I called to god

there was no such thing

I sat for a long time
pinned blame where it stuck
I exiled the old worn self
couldn’t stand the sight of a mirror

alone I rebuilt
I took tin and wood
stole nails and glue where it was plentiful
I rebuilt

I was ignorant and untrained
had no knowledge of plans
or architecture
I rebuilt

then there was a self

I sat for a long time
doubting what I had built
I am no builder
why is this thing so strong?

why does it betray me by standing
when it was built as a tent, a covering for the night? 
this is no palace
after all, is there a thing here worth keeping?

But I can’t make it break.