While I’m on the topic of poems about homes I’ve had, here’s one from 2009 about a unit I lived in at Henley Beach.
Here, in my house on a hill by the sea
I feel myself begin to heal.
When I stand by the water
I no longer feel that call to flee.
When I pass drains I no longer
resist the desire to disappear
into the shadows.
An agony eases a little inside me.
The tree is no longer burning
in the wind, flame raging
in the hot breath of the desert.
I am no longer drowning
in the dark water, hearing blood
scream in my ears, the deep
burning aching need for air.
Beached by the waves, planted
in sand I cough up oil and bile
New buds appear on burnt and withered limbs
My starved and maddened brain
brings forth new dreams.
Here, in my house on a hill by the sea
I feel myself begin to heal.
When I stand by the water
I no longer feel that call to flee.
When I pass drains I no longer
resist the desire to disappear
into the shadows.
An agony eases a little inside me.
The tree is no longer burning
in the wind, flame raging
in the hot breath of the desert.
I am no longer drowning
in the dark water, hearing blood
scream in my ears, the deep
burning aching need for air.
Beached by the waves, planted
in sand I cough up oil and bile
New buds appear on burnt and withered limbs
My starved and maddened brain
brings forth new dreams.
Sarah K Reece 
Yes, I think words can be very powerful, for hurting or healing.
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Scary but healing words. Words really do have the power to heal, don't they?
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