Returned to where I had once belonged
The landscape seemed very different
An emptiness was all I could sense
I tried to recall things as they had been
Time had stolen many details from me
I relied upon fragments of old memories
Gone was the immediate familial welcome
No warmth of hugs and overflowing smiles
There was only the sound of an eternal silence
The old house had gradually lost its heart
One by one, generations had moved away
This homestead no longer sang nor chattered
The hearthside was stone cold and deserted
Out-buildings held trappings from yesteryear
Undisturbed webs glistened in the sunlight
I moved onwards taking away that view…
Eileen T O’Neill 14th April 2021
Lovely to read you, Eileen. I feel the same way - after so many golden years where our community was thriving, online feels very different now. However, the words still come, thank heaven, and the friendships and connections are still there. What a gift those years were for me, and for so many of us. My poetry thrived and re-energized because of them. The pace is slower now, but nothing will dim those golden years when we were all at the top of our game. Stay safe!
ReplyDeleteThe scene is suspended in those memories. I felt it.
ReplyDeleteWow, sometimes you really can't go back to where one had once 'lived.' If the 'familial welcome' is not there, it really is NOT the same. I know....and have not been back. It is no longer 'home.' Glad to see your poem, Eileen!
ReplyDeleteThings certainly have changed my friend. Your beautiful words have captured the feel of it very well. I miss you my poet friend!
ReplyDeleteI am sure, the next phase will be even happier, Eillen. Hood Luck.
ReplyDeleteAfter my mother passed in 2007 I returned to the house my sisters and I were raised in ... what you have shared is what I experienced ... but could not have expressed as poignantly, beautifully. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI so resonate with this, Eileen. My sister and I always drive around to all the old houses we lived in as children. So much has changed, yet some of them survive, while the town around them grew into a bustling city. The apple orchards all are covered with condos now. Sigh. But the memories remain.
ReplyDeleteMy comment seems to have disappeared. This poem reminds me of every time my sister and I go back to Kelowna, where we grew up. We always drive around to all the places we lived, the ones that remain. The sleepy little orchard town we lived in then is now a bustling city, with condos stretching for miles where there once were apple orchards...........this poem resonates with me......things change - but in memory, that time remains forever golden.
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