New Tenants

New Tenants

 

 

immeasurable sorrow

tears in flux

the sky cries against windswept

memories

 

houses occupied by others

no trace

ashes in a crypt

manners leaking in current unction

 

hugs still felt,

proud words, looks

acceptance after years of strain

perhaps life just waits us out

 

realizations come tardy

but eventually cast themselves 

across a still pond

if only we could see 

 

just a couple more ripples

the tears might reel themselves in

for an adjournment 

the verdict rising as reminder

 

the past always catches up to the future

as the urns turn.

 

erin-cilberto

10/20/22

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

The human condition is such that our parents live in our bones no matter what. I never knew my father. You had strained relations and then recompense with yours. I have no memories. You have both good and bad. We are like old houses, haunted by the ghosts of those now gone.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your understanding words, Linda Marie,
j.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Fantastic write Jacob
The ghosts of houses never leave
Maybe they don’t know they are gone from us

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I think that is true...they just don't know.
thanks, Julie,
j.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Headstones can never encapsulate a full life lived. Yet they try to remind with sweet words in tribute. Years ago I remember visiting the cemetery that housed my grandmother's ashes. Looking upon the little plate of silver that inscribed her name, date of birth, and death. Along with an innocuous quote, which to me never captured the full life she lived and her impact on those that loved her. Then looking around this mausoleum I thought about those other urns for which the same could be said. This wonderful poem reminds me of that precious day in my life and saying goodbye.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes, never can capture...but our memories do...
I still miss them.
thank you, Carlos,
j.

[John the Baptist]

There is a funereal air to this one, but I don't get the impression it is a recent death. Perhaps the scene is an old family home being occupied by new people. In such instances we can see our own lives passing. A lot of memories seem contained in this one. Indeed, the past does eventually catch up to the future.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insightful review, John...as always,
j.

[JE Falcon]

"the past always catches up to the future
as the urns turn." --- Woo, what a great ending for this moving poem! --- I am touched.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, JE, for your kind words,
j.

[softlyfall]

Hugs still felt is powerful, so poignant
Tears in flux as rain beats on the window is beautiful contrast and conjures up such deep sadness.
When it turns full circle, we come face to face with all the we ran from.
Such a weighty, sad poem, but excellent too

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind review, Amy,
j.

[Brianna Brie]

"the past always catches up to the future
as the urns turn," death comes to us all. Clever way of saying it. No escaping that one!

Childhood homes didn't even dawn on me until I read Willweb's review. For me reading other people's reviews is part of the charm. Like Will my childhood home was sold, but only now it sits as an abandoned ghost town overgrown with memories soon to be torn down in favor of a sterile warehouse. Yes, we sold out for the money.

Often I think of the family of five that grew up in my home prior to me. Even after thirty years, they still feel like part of this property. It is as if the walls absorbed their story.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

In favor of a warehouse....ugh...all the beauty interrupted by commercialism...
thank you, Brianna,
j.

[willweb]

I moved away from my hometown many, many years ago but as long as my parents were still there (in the house I grew up in) I could always go back. They are both gone now and the house has been sold and sadly, there is no going back but the memories still hold on, the neighbors, the streets, riding bikes, playing sandlot baseball and football, memorial day parades...as if I never left. Thanks for the thoughts back.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I am reminded by your review of our apartment in NY when I was very young...
thank you, will,
j.

[Elaine]

I connected in my own way - having my parents now residing in a nursing home, and having moved back close to where I grew up - I feel those tears, those new people occupying 2 homes they resided in - the old cemetery I used to walk my dog through as I watched the sunset, unafraid, feeling a sense of peace in that place. Now it seems to hold so much as I view these places, changed by the years.
Anyway - didn't mean to go on. For me - this is what it evoked. Stuff "close to home" in my current experience. I enjoyed reading this - knowing it can have many meanings depending on the eyes and state of the reader. Thank you!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Elaine, I appreciate your reflection very much...and your understanding of this work,
j.

[Chris]

Quite the image left behind the eyes with this one.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Chris,
j.