Here, the roaches
climb the walls
here, the rugs
are old & sullied
here, this house
is deeply rooted
in its many tribulations
they seem to be the only
things that are plentiful
& multiplying by the day
But here, in this little old house
there is a problem
bigger than any other...
things keep going missing
one day, it's a picture
from the walls of memory
a fragment of times long past
now lost for good
the next day, it loses track
of time & how to count
the hours, forgetting its inhabitants
& all of its possessions
little by little
& my biggest fear is
that one day, it will
forget me too
My husband has an uncle like your poem, he remembers enough to know that he is missing a lot of his memories, and it makes him very sad. To loss pieces of yourself, a little bit at the time sounds very frightening. A very powerful poem.
sounds like the onset of total senility in a person. I don’t really feel that houses have feelings! “roaches” up the walls? I wouldn’t wish that on any person; well, maybe a few who REALLY have misbehaved! and YOU? /the speaker fear that you too will be forgotten by the “house”. right? but it seems, if I’m understanding this correctly, that a more appropriate title might be “The House of Forgetting”. thanks for sharing. I shall be pleased to place this in my upcoming JULY showcase on my PH site. good to hear back from you! how’s the hair? ? bri :)
This is aptly creepy. At first I thought of the house as a victim of time, then it seemed sentient as it began discarding things of value to human, at the end the house seemed actively malign. And HOME is supposed to be our safety zone! The place we go to escape such set backs. Where do we go when HOME itself betrays us? ?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just Just read this poem on Bri's July showcase. Loved it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem.