I stood contained within the walls where I once drew small breaths and saw life unfold

Where I first broke bread and filled my cup with dry pieces of crust

A sprinkle of sugar, a measured pour of canned milk, topped with boiling water

There was little talk
Words, too, were rationed

Silence clung to his footsteps like a shadow
Stilling every tongue and quieting movements

but just outside the door

(The one with plastic wrap tacked over its broken window)
There was grass and sky, woods and river


Places and spaces I ached for

I could not have described for you the nature of those longings
To do so would have required words beyond my ken

Words I never heard

Their eyes never seemed to see what I saw
Their ears never heard what mine heard
Or if they did ...
They never shared a whisper of it with me

I was surrounded but alone
Perhaps they were too ...