You asked for advice, Stephen
But I have none
For I have not worked it out yet.

But I can tell you this:
When you stand where once you lived
You cannot see me
But I stand with you.
I see the empty space,
The brown desolate scar of land
Which once cradled your home and your heart.
I see the emptiness where there should be
The treasures of your life.

When you stand where once you lived
You cannot hear me
But your silent sobs are echoes of my own.
There should be laughter and fun
Teasing, tears ,
The chatter of children,
Barbecues and wine,
Not these constant sounds
Of Machines still scraping away
Someone’s else’s past

When you stand where you once lived
Even though you don’t know me
You know that I am there
Because I feel the same.
The fire at least,
Unforgiving and relentless
Left some vestige of our lives
Some sad and broken fragments
Which tell our stories.
How much more cruel
This final act of eradication!