When The Ancestral House Was Sold..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the old house of their
parents is sold today

the chinese businessman
who bought it shall take it now
it shall be demolished

another high rise building
shall be built

seven of them are all grown-up
with families of their own
most of which are already
citizens of the united states of america

this is the house of their childhood
they were raised here by their parents

the veranda looks out to the city road
now crowded with cars and trucks
traffic is heavy and noise has
become intolerable

the youngest of them in the family
is still mourning for the death of his
only daughter
a juvenile diabetic who also wished
to die months before

the eldest of the family shall receive
his share and after a day leaves back to
the U.S. as a retiree

a sibling takes time taking pictures of the
house, the white fence, the veranda,
the huge windows, the grass of the yard,
the red roof, and much to my surprise

the orange cat grinning seemingly unaffected
by this diaspora of old feelings

unlike people, cats do not make drama,
nothing about nostalgia, they stay and leave
and one day at a time, live their nine lives,
without much fuss.

there is sadness of course giving up a family house.
all the children leave. Most of them have gotten old too.
Some are sick.One is very sick. And money is never enough

No matter. Even if an ancestral house is sold,
nothing is solved. At most what we have here is change.
And it is constantly occurring.

A friend of theirs who saw the picture of the sold house
in Facebook wrote, ' we had happy memories in that house'

so far, no comment is made. If no one does, I will,
and it will be about that orange cat.

eternally grinning.