It hangs on her wall. Framed, centered, prominent, a mirror into the soul.
Always a reminder of what she does not see, what she does not speak, what she does not hear, what she cannot smell or touch.
It hangs on her wall, it’s emptiness speaks so loudly
She covers her eyes so as not to hear it.
It smells so strong, she leaves the room, quickly.
She does not understand. She does not want to understand.
The texture of the vacancy invites a visit, no one dares to go.
It hangs on our walls. Framed, centered, prominent, a mirror into the soul.
There live places we refuse to even glimpse.
It hangs on the wall with photos of people we never knew
Or only knew in one unexpected moment that the light shone on them.
And then they disappeared, leaving a residue of blurry color.
It hangs on our walls, and we look away.