Mother Returning Home

You heard my cry, Too late. And now you’ve returned home, To an empty house. The sound of pain and tears Resonate. Where once laughter and joy echoed But now there’s only hate. The wind whistles its sorrowful tune, The ragged curtains whipping Against your legs Accusing, accusing you of this ruin. The carpets are red. The wallpaper torn. Dust lingers and floorboards creep As you step in the house that was once our own. Your hollow cries echo Through the hallways. They’re met only by the deafening silence. Tell me: what truly echoes in the hallways of your heart? In memories only, May joy be real. You cling to a stuffed toy’s severed head, hum the dirge of the dead. You sing the song of those cast aside, Of those used and long forgotten, those broken pieces on the chess board Gone because you did not cherish their value. While you live to laugh and cry Others would laugh and cry just to live. Quiet now. There’s no more begging to those who will never forgive. You heard my cry, Too late. And now you’ve returned home, To an empty house.