Saturday, August 27, 2022

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:

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