Wondering along the forest edge
Among the endless shadows
Of leaves shaking
I left the known trail into
A lower place
Stepping through dead brush
And tangled mounds of marigold
Red and copper patches,
Old witnesses stitched into a quilt
I found a stone chimney above a lost
Foundation like a worn grave stone.

The ruins called to me.
Pulled toward the lone marker
I sensed a change in the air
A cold sensation.
Without hesitation
I collected and broke branches
From nearby river birch
And built a fire.

I sat grounded in the heart
Of the Home.
Through the flicker and cracks
Of the flame, through the heated air
Breathing life into the flue
A voice from the house whispered.

The sorrows are gone.
I am what is left
A heart broken and alone.
This rooted foundation
Courting this ground
My home fell down
It’s rubble now
The earth reached up
And pulled it down.
The garden is gone.
I am what is left.

I watched the fire die
Out realizing loneliness is knowing
The spirits don’t have answers
They walk on ahead
In circles.