A soulful poetic account as the poet reminisces the memories of a house, lost in flames

But in minutes, waves of violation,
charred, the shelter of its sole occupant.
(1)
Fury of flames devoured a home —
a home, mobbed with moments:
some memories and some mess.
But in minutes, waves of violation,
charred, the shelter of its sole occupant.
In which portion of the rubble
lies her laughter?
Where is her plectrum? Her portfolio?
How does she pore over her past?
Which monocle should she mobilize?
(2)
It all narrows down to a narration.
Spotlight is on whys and hows.
Triage is a buffer between
experience and its impact.
No one even steps aside to notice
severity of the situation.
(3)
Surface usually softens
or at least can be knit.
The blisters within
need our notice.
Pic courtesy: Pixabay
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