A Life

It stands empty now-
garden plowed over and roof removed,
remnants of voices and dreams once contained
by walls and ceilings,
set free to rise like ghosts and hover-
blue memories in an
unfeeling sky.

Gone now, all that had been.
An auction of plaster, wood and shingle-
the sale of your hopes.
Martins swoop
through windows of air.
Leaves skitter over floors
worn smooth by years
of children's feet.

Erased from your eyes, the view
of the levels, silvered and watery
and green with forested knolls.
Jasmine and trailing juniper vines
twine unfettered choking
dark oleander, red berries stain
the untended earth.

He comes to you now, you hear his voice
at night when you are there again
in those rooms open to black air and stars.
And you are lifted - released-
Shed of flesh and bone and skin-
weightless as a whisper
at home in your sky.