Silent Spectator

I wrote this poem the day I heard we had a deal we just couldn't ignore, for our first property that we had put our heart and soul into building. Just the thought of someone else living in the house, which knew us so intimately, was unsettling. These walls have see it all, lived with us steadfast, through think and thin, through joy and sorrow. They were a part of the family, in fact not even the children knew as much as they did.

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These walls reach out to remind me

Of the good times and the bad.

They have heard the laughter,

The triumphant hoots, the envious chuckles.

These walls have seen the tears

Of the sense of loss and the joy of gain.

They have gasped and cheered

When the bubbly champagne

Splashed across their shiny faces.

A little sauce, a little cream

A little of that spicy hot curry

The party times, the home comings

The welcome guests with joyous kids.

They have cringed in pain

When in anger, saucepans flew

To mar and maim deep inside.

The putty and the wall paint

Will never erase those scars

The memories of deafening silence

That hurt more than the inflicted wound.

They have heard the soft whispers

Of thoughts, unsaid, suppressed

Purblinded by the stampede of emotions

Trampled by the surging egos.

A clean slate awaits me

A new house with new walls

Memories folded and packed

Ready, exited and expectant.

Soon someone else will stare at it

Lost in thoughts of joy or sorrow.

It will be theirs to amuse or abuse

A mute spectator of the game called life.

© Nalini Hebbar/openmind/2009 - all rights reserved

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