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  • Writer's pictureKathy Johnson

Structures are A-Crumbling

Structures are a-crumbling

 

The house next door,

A run-down old place

Several decades a home for a family

Yesterday stood empty

Yesterday was still filled with horded memories

Yesterday morning, it was.

 

Mid-day the machine came

And like a giant dragon,

Opened its mouth,




Looking like a hyena reaching into the bowels

Of a fallen elk

Once filled with life, now lifeless

Grabbing, pulling, shaking

With each grab and pull

The structure crumbled

With each shutter and dismantling

The memories faded

Leaving just a pile of bare bones,

Cement strewn, splinters scattered.

Structures are a-crumbling.




 

This morning

Our communication devices

Became silent.

The memories that were recounted

Between friends and families silenced.

The entity we called cell phone communication,

This mammoth organization,

It feels as if it cannot be relied upon

It feels as if it is swaying in the wind

It feels as if this huge tower

May be a-crumbling.

 

I sit on a cliff,

Looking down upon the earth

Looking at my home

And wonder,

Is the structure a-crumbling?

 

And if so,

Will a new home be built on the bare land?

Will this new home be shiny, sturdy,

Will it be better than ever?

 

The structures are a-crumbling,

Making way for a new beginning,

A new time and place

A space for a new joyful home.

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