Mourning the House Lost
because that is where I used to dream and cry.
And now comes time to abandon my refuge,
though it never abandoned me.
Moving day is a funeral.
We drape the house in black
by emptying it.
This room protected me.
This room nurtured me.
This was the tranquil room.
This was the creation room.
The floor becomes my cold bed
as I curl up and press my cheek to it.
There I remain for the rest of the day
until darkness falls and I must go.
Close the blinds. Lock the doors.
This is not your house anymore,
but it will always be your home.