Left by Rose Morales

I left it at home,
(at least A home)
a place I had passed
from time to time,
marveling at the
emptiness
and stark bleakness
of the furniture
inside.

I thought I was safe,
(It seemed so safe)
a tomb where no one
slept or stirred.
Hermetically sealed
with leaded windows
armed against the onslaught
of inconvenient truths.

I slumbered long
(So dreamless, no sound, no song)
in peaceful solitude
in my own souless cell
with priceless paintings
to show taste,
and the semblence
of life within.

(A life never loved, never lived)

I woke to laughter
and children playing,
mothers calling
in a language
I failed to understand.

Like something feral
seaking nourishment
it crept behind me
just in sight
but out of reach.

Searching out warmth
after cold gray walls;
the heat of secrets burning,
loves forgotten
hatred simmering
in lifeless halls.

(the dead awaken)

Nibbling at the feet
of those who would run,
the past has a curious way
of catching up.