The faces we knew
when we were young have faded.
Their photographs have curled
at the edges, their features
scratched out by time.
The old house used to stand,
but first it was broken into,
looted by the family,
then casually burned down.
They took grandmother away, too,
and she passed from earth
like three of her nine sons.
Maybe she is greeted now, in some
great city, but we no longer see
her in this place.
