A Poem by Brigitte Goetze

 

Stage Three:  Emptiness

After the hurricane had shattered

several windows, these openings

for the storm to flood

your living room, grief, 

that great remodeler, showed up,

assessed the wreckage

and, with a heavy heart, you

consented to the necessary

demolition of the ruined parts.

You watched grief rip out the sodden carpet,

pull off the buckled linoleum, take down

the soggy sheet rock.  Though reluctantly,

you assisted with pushing the furniture

into the center of the stripped floors,

even held two corners as grief spread

a clear plastic sheet over the islands.

Now, the work done for the day, you look out

through newly installed windows, hear

the hollow sound of your steps

echo as you wander in the cavernous

spaciousness of the skeletal rooms,

the revealed structure of the house

both familiar and oddly foreign.

At last, you cook a simple meal

in the gutted kitchen, the stove and the fridge,

like sentinels, the only ones left standing

one offering past harvests, the other

a means to make something

out of it.

Brigitte Goetze, a retired biologist and goat farmer, likes to listen to the never-ending conversation between the biological and spiritual dimensions of life.  Understanding the influence of natural forces on all-that-is offers new perspectives for our challenging times.  Her website can be found at:  brigittegoetzewriter.com