Humans have a lot of social conventions that they use to memorialize both positive and negative events: They throw “showers” for women who are close to giving birth, they have “receptions” at “weddings,” and they have “funerals” for when humans die. But what do humans do when the place they call home can no longer be called home?
There’s no social convention for the death of a home… it seems a private sorrow, not able to be understood by humans outside the home. The loss is both a loss of place and a loss of future memories that have no chance to be made in that place.
There’s something about home and human that cannot be separated– all humans seek home. And when that’s no longer possible? Read on– I asked my master, and he answered in verse:
Upon the Death of HomeI’m as empty as this house: Floors bare as my heart, Walls blank as my eyes, Rooms hollow as my gut. I’m as lifeless as this house: Stairs still as my breath, Windows closed as my mouth, Stoves cold as my memory. I’m as nothing as this house: No longer beating, No longer comforting, No longer knowing… …what it’s like to be human, to be home.
Wonderful poem. You are right about thye connectedness of home and human.
Thanks, dog. I feel that there is a law as sure as gravity that pulls humans toward this concept of home.