(replacement house after fire)
This new house is a skeleton on another skeleton.
It’s as if the old house still exists in this space.
I walk through its walls.
I stand in the bedroom beside the old bed.
If I close my eyes I can look out of the old window
at the vibrant plum tree and into the eyes of cattle
that have since become meat.
It’s odd.
The memories dissolve into reality:
the cool concrete underfoot
the quietness of double glazing and fine joinery.
The wind flutes across the chimney
louder and longer than the old one.
It’s a sad sound, like mourning.
Well, of course there is mourning.
That prior life is just below the surface of now,
all the lost things, the sunlight
on the bathroom wall, for example.
But, lets face it,
it was trouble, that old building,
with its moving joints and broken things.
This new one is attaining soul
slowly but surely.
One makes a home by sleeping there.
And the presence of the old building,
its warmth, and the love in its crevasses,
are still there, just out of sight
and sometimes, I walk through its walls.
Beautiful!
Thank you Petru
Lovely, Belinda. There is so much underneath what we see, so much more we carry within that no one else sees unless shown. Thanks for showing.
It’s true. Thanks David.
That was beautiful, Belinda, very moving.
Thanks Janet. 🙂 xx
Beautiful, Belinda. Thank you for sharing. No more words but Love you both.
Xxx love to you too, Jill
A loving and haunting (and haunted?) tribute to your (and our) abodes. They are always haunted, are they not?
Interesting way to put it and so I had the urge to look at the etymology of ‘haunt’ and got this, ‘ early 13c., “to practice habitually, busy oneself with, take part in,” from Old French hanter “to frequent, visit regularly; have to do with, be familiar with; indulge in, cultivate” (12c.), of uncertain origin, perhaps from Old Norse heimta “bring home,” from Proto-Germanic *haimatjanan “to go or bring home,” from *haimaz- “home” (from PIE root *tkei- “to settle, dwell, be home”).’
So yes, haunted!
Don’t you just love words?
I do indeed, and I too often go straight to the dictionary. I remember reading a quote, from someone famous no doubt, that poets more often than not, go to the dictionary to look up words that they already “know” than words that are totally unfamiliar, to learn more about their links and roots, the little tendrils they send out into the language.
Yes, I do SO love words.
I think they were my first love….
I think my first love was dirt but I did discover at about age ten, all by myself, that you can play with words and structure. And I had a new love.
Gorgeous. It’s amazing where we go in our minds. Thanks for taking me to your old and new place. Much love 💙
Pleasure, Kendi, thank you. ❤️ Xxx