REQUIEM FOR A HOUSE

Western town
pioneer house
constructed from lumber 
milled at local sawmill

home to four families
lastly mine

as a child
I sheltered there
sang songs at my father's knee
whipped margarine for my mom
decorated gingerbread men 
with raisins

my doll families
beloved
their wardrobes designed
from one strip of cloth

my domain
the front bedroom
where I dreamed
read
swore over homework

my adult retreat
when I lived between 
past, 
future

always
my mother's welcoming smile
a cup of tea
cookies 

morning rituals
with my father
making coffee
a piece of toast or two

anguish
returning 
to a house 
without  the heart
of  a mother

latterly workshop,
storage place, 
accumulation 
of three generations

frustration
pain
searching, sorting, deciding
prior to an auction

silent 
deteriorating
physical menace
can a house be
euthanized?

empty space
where once families
laughed, cried

now
existing for me
only in pictures,
and memory

(In memory of my family home which was demolished on May 25, 1998)