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Writer's pictureHeather Burkett-Ocasio

"Empty Moment"


My Childhood Home

There’s an empty moment

At the end of every day

When we’ve finished our work in the house

And given donations away


When outside by the curb

Is a very full trash can

And our house is even emptier

Than it was when we began.


When the dirty walls are whiter

When the floors are now brand new

And although things look brighter

They’re still somehow missing you.


We’re making “improvements”;

They’re “enhancements” and “upgrades” -

But with every minor change

Another handprint literally fades.


For the rooms are empty shells now.

Our voices echo off the walls.

And it’s literally quite colder

In the rooms and down the halls.


The footprints have all but been wiped clean

There are no portraits hung with care

There’s little to say that we are here.

Little less to say you were there.


Holes have been patched and repaired

We’ve scrubbed up many stains.

And I can’t help but feel, with each day’s work,

That less and less of you remains.


For it’s empty in the house around me

And that emptiness seeps in

Till I can’t help but feel

The emptiness within.


And all the world is sleeping

so in the emptiness, I’m alone.

And it’s a cold and lonely place to be sometimes

In a dark and empty soul.


It’s not scary or sad, so much,

Just a lonely place, you see?

A peaceful place where I ponder how

Things might have turned out differently.


And I’m loving what we’re doing.

I’m sure that you would, too.

But in that empty moment,

I sure as hell miss you.

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