The Last One Here. Poem by Luke Curcio

There's a echo in this room. There wasn't for years.

Now God has said move.

Somethings were left behind. Mere possessions.

But not the people here who mattered.

In this the last poem here I'll write?

Or do the tales live on in my mind?

Every trial. Every pain. Every hurt.

Count the tears.

But the tears have taught me.

Every test. Every agony. Every wound.

Count the hope.

Christ was here.