El Valle

They say this house is haunted
And perhaps they mean ghosts
But I don’t believe that’s it

It’s true it was built on top a cemetery
That bones were found
Nameless. Forgotten.

But these lost souls are not what linger
They’re not what make this house
feel cold
feel cruel

I often wonder if my great grandfather
knew the weight this house would carry
The years of resentment
and heartache
and waiting
so much waiting

Before my mother left this house
There was the clucking of chickens
The smell of burnt firewood
Trees full of ripe fruit

Now there are only echoes
Faceless memories
and tales of before

The fruit sits on the ground rotting,
tired of waiting for us to come home.

And the haunting I feel
is more of a what if
A longing to know
What I can never know

The voices of the women
and of the men
That made me