by Abner Dormiendo

Long ago in an old lot, a house
Once stood. After a storm passed,
Only a wall remained standing,

Albeit not really standing, but inclined
In such a way so that it catches
Sunlight as it touches its cracked surface

Perfectly, wholly, enveloping it
In warmth. Rainy days came
In between summers. Then moss

Found home in the cracks. I make it
A point to pass every morning by
The wall, touch it with my palms

Like a pilgrimage. I utter a prayer
And tuck it on its fissures. My fingers
Crawl its cold crevices

Now moss-filled, dirty. Nothing is
Ever empty. There is no such thing
As space. Always there is something

In between them. We can try walking
Through a room that once was
But not anymore, let our heels pass

A hall now only bordered
By sunlight while raindrops run
On the things that remain. In my heart

Where once stood a house now stood
A wall. I walk through its rooms
Every night in my sleep, catching light

Where none is found, and I find you there
Sitting, like the storm that you are.