It Is All Gone
It is all gone.
They took everything—
even the foundation of the only home I have ever known.
It is all gone.
The hallway, worn by years of use—
I knew each creak by heart.
I could tell who was walking
based on the pressure their body placed on the wood.
It is all gone.
The scribbles I made on either side of my parents’ bathroom door.
It is all gone.
The Black angel we placed atop the Christmas tree,
which later found a permanent home on our mantel.
It is all gone.
My father’s life’s work.
It is all gone.
They took everything—
even the foundation of the only home I have ever known.