MY HOUSE

Who slept here
before I came,
who lived
in this room,
how did it look,
was it
the same?
Was there a girl
or two,
a little boy,
a house filled
with toys,
with joys,
with dreams…
or was it just
a lonely place
with empty beds
and silent rooms
was it always
filled
with gloom,
and did the house
long to be
loved?
Was there a girl
who danced
and sang,
a dinner bell
that chimed
or rang,
and did anyone
ever
stand
right here
as I do
now?

Do I know
the name,
have I seen
the face
was this always
the same sweet
place,
was someone
glad,
was someone sad,
was there a dog,
a cat,
a horse,
a mouse,
who has been here,
who knows this
house,
do they know me,
do I know them,
and did they sing
a requiem
I feel them here,
I know their
tears
I loved them too,
the house was new
was theirs
was different then,
and yet it is
the same again,
and was,
and will,
and must always be,
and now
the house
belongs
to me.
April, 1995 (15 years old) – written in the same manner as in her journal (titled – “The Voice of My Innocence”).

Advertisements