No Longer a Home

Roses climbing up the worn wooden terrace
A white window, paint on the sill chipped and peeling,
open, clinging to its hinges
crying as the wind shuffles through it.
A rocker,
old and worn from the years of swaying,
left in the room,
rocking ever so slightly to the beat of the wind
Like the fading beat of a heart,
Soft and gentle, until the wind changes direction
And it
Stops.

And the room itself, cold and lifeless
Dust gathering on the floors and furniture, coating it
Covering it, smothering it.
Until all you can see is a faded veil of grey.
The royal velvet curtains hanging like ribbon dancers,
dancing and trying to bring what little life it can
Back into this old room.
A door, closed and barred up,
Nails piercing the worn cherry wood.
Suffocating the living room,
The house itself, like an empty body
rid of the organs that once pumped life into the veins.

Memories mired in the walls:
Laughter that once rang down the lonely halls
The wind whispered through the open windows,
Tossed the curtains this way and that
The aroma of warm bread wafted up from the kitchen
The pots and pans banged in the pantry, the oven door shutting,
only to be opened again.
The crackling fire throwing up smoke,
filling the house with a sooty fragrance
Casting light over the lonely rugs and the lonely clock that hung,
towering over the room.
The house itself, a vacant space, full of nothingness

Useless, some may say,
Tear it down, build a school, build a hotel, build a shop.
Tear down the memories of the family that once lived here
Tear down the walls.
gouge out the eyes.
slice off its tongue.
So the secrets it holds shall remain as such
Amputate the bones armored by the flesh,
Tear down the supports
Watch the blood drip into a puddle of crimson
Slash the wrists, Shackle the hands
Piece together a prison,
Leave him there to die

Burn the portraits of ancestors, the pictures, the photos
Crush the records from long ago, the CD’s, the radio
Rip up the rugs, tear down the shingles
Crash through the walls
Rip up the wood from the floor
Chop up the cherry door.
Smell sawdust in the air.
Feel the sting of the axe.
Get punched by the wrecking balls.

You’re useless anyhow
You take up space
You’re no
Longer a
Home.