The poem I wrote (caution: dark)

Shortly after the house fire, I wrote a poem.

I think it’s time to share it.

black and lonely
my heart lies open
this empty shell was home

shadows of swelling buds
whisper on the walls
life still grows here

small mound of earth
raised in the back yard
memorial to faithfulness

the painful letting go
before constructive action
progress arrives slowly

Matthew, suited up so he can work inside the house.  Smoke damage easily visible on the outside wall, door opens to nothing but blackness.  Inside, boxes filled with things that might be salvageable, furniture that we hoped to save and, it turns out, many things that we might have been able to recover had we only known which...   Taken April 9, on the day the professional cleaners came to grab what they had previously identified; far less than they could have.
Matthew, suited up so he can work inside the house. Smoke damage easily visible on the outside wall, door opens to nothing but blackness. Inside, boxes filled with things that might be salvageable, furniture that we hoped to save and, it turns out, many things that we might have been able to recover had we only known which… Taken April 9, on the day the professional cleaners came to grab what they had previously identified; far less than they could have.

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

© 2005-2024 Stidmama All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by Blog Copyright