A House No Longer There

We were walking in the air -

    a room used to be there.

I saw the hangers unclothed

a space without walls

all the empty halls

stories of lives untold.

📸Emslichter on pixabay

We were walking all through there -

   now just rooms in the air.

I saw all of the remains

broken heaped up mess

rooms many, now less

open to the wind and rains.

📸Tama66 on pixabay

We can see further on now -

   view wide open somehow.

I feel the stirrings of souls

visiting this place

rooms of empty space

as stories of lives unfold.

Theresa M ©2007

📸Jody Grove on Flickr

I wrote this poem years ago, back in 2007.  I'm not sure what inspired it, but nonetheless here it is. Now as I read it I think of many homes torn down from long ago, like the beloved childhood country home of my mother. And another one nearby that I lived in for eleven years and considered it my first real home where I went through a lot of changes that helped me grow. I found it recently torn down. And now as I see images of the bombed out homes in Ukraine, I can't help but weep. Thus, I dedicate this poem to Ukrainian refugees. May you find a new home of safety and comfort. God bless. 

my pic