There’s No One Here Poem by Bill Galvin

A drive from Maryland to Massachusetts,
To the house that we called home.
Completion of a three-month tribute and retreat.

A tribute whereby I deposited locks of your hair
At places iconic to our partnered lives,
Like Zion, Grand Canyon, Redwoods, Monument Valley;
Or gifted them in locket form to close, loving family.
Twenty-two “reunions” in all.

This trip, also a retreat to withdraw and restore; to heal.

Driving the final leg of the route we took after vacations,
I recall how we’d arrive tired, but fulfilled.
Unloading the car: heavy bags for me, light for you;
You’d unpack the bags and start laundry right away;
I’d open the house back up; check things inside and out.

The hollow pain I feel is the emptiness, the quietness.

Hey, know what I heard, what I saw?
You’d never believe who I ran into…
Nothing…
There’s no one here.
Not even the “me” that once lived with you.
A stranger in my own house.
Looking through empty eyes at an empty house;
Lacking life, feeling.

The only emotions I hear is the loud sobbing;
Some guy is weeping openly as he carries in his luggage.
Must be the new owner.

Seeing the way it was left…
There are still memories in the form of an open jewelry box
Where I let your loving nieces take a memento;
Ceramic soup spoons to help you eat still in the drawer;
Tray table; still inflated shampoo basin;
The screen off your bath window upstairs
Where I ran the hose from the tub
For your outdoor warm weather baths;
The mosquito net so you could enjoy the outdoors.
So much that still has to be put away;
But I’m calmer now.
It will get done; all things will end up in their proper place.
I know that now.

6-14-2015