Walls

Walls

Watching the sun dance on the walls that encased my childhood

The walls that have heard the laughter and joy

of a little girl who's memories all come back to this place.

With its chipped baseboards

and pencil marked doorframe.

These walls.

They should have fallen.

They should have crumbled from the sound of the girl whose eyes couldn't see over the countertops,

whose curls were tamed, and bruises kissed

as they witnessed the unbridled anguish

of the screams and cries of grief.

But they have stood, unmoving.

How cavalier.

How callous.

But they are just walls.

They know nothing about death.