We recently moved from Lawrence, KS back to Waco. After we loaded the vans and I did one last walk through our house before locking up and handing over the keys, I broke down and had a good cry. A lot went into this move... more than I have time to share at the moment. But this poem came out of that experience. Hope you enjoy and it gives voice to some of the pain you have felt at the point of transition, and the hope that waits on the other side!
An Empty House
A journey ends at an empty house.
Blank walls invoke a sense of loss,
The death of a dream.
What is a house? A collection of
Empty spaces? Or the frame
That gives them meaning?
Is it a symbol? Or an artifact –
The shell of a once vibrant organism?
Is it a memory?
The void is more palpable
Because of what is absent.
No laughter or tears.
No padding feet or squeaky toys.
No agony or triumph.
No loneliness. No ecstasy.
No pictures on the walls.
No idea of what lies
Beyond the front door.
All seems lost.
The emptiness
Amplifies my grief.
Yet, the pain is victory.
An abundance of tears means
There has been great joy.
There is beauty in loss and
Meaning in an artifact.
What lived will live again.
