Empty Rooms

Death stood in the doorway and took a deep breath in

and another breath then

another breath in

and another breath then

another breath in

Beating his chest while standing on mine.

Mothers and fathers began to try to exhale prayers into the space.

At times, feeling like a toddlers trying to inflate a balloon.

just before they had enough air in,

hope slipped from their lips and spun around the room,

finally resting at their feet.

He stayed there, constricting my rib cage,

INHALing and INHALing until every bit of air had left

and the only thing remaining was

him.

Then he prepared to begin his pillage.

It was not his first time to visit my village.

Too many times he had come for the elders sons and daughters

for my sisters and brothers.

The old folks often speak of him,

The young folks rarely think of him,

Both are of little consequence

because he has no regard for the home of either one.

He did not rush

now having eternity to complete his work.

As he began to walk from room to room,

he realized he was too late.

Cousins had already come and removed the memories from the wall, leaving only nail holes behind.

Friends had already pulled the jokes from drawers, slipping a laugh between each one and carried them away.

Parents had already cleared the shed of the good times and the bad, leaving nothing but dust in the corners.

All the while, he peered through the window.

His exit had been swift

but there was just enough time to ensure death would find

nothing but empty rooms.