Every Death Has a Story
The building stands like a boxer, punch drunk,
a fresh coat of paint on the front,
the back and foundations battered,
the slow erosion of time and neglect leaving
a facade, waiting for the final beam to crack
or for the wrecker's ball to strike
one final blow,
to end the song, silence the music
that once lifted the hearts, like you,
now worn, now waiting,
a fraction, nay
less than that, of who and what you were,
still savable, but failing, struggling,
unwilling to collapse,
unable to rise,
echoes of opera and burlesque,
of soul dancing and moments of frivolous courage,
all resound in the silence,
you look at the whitewashed walls,
that every death has a story,
even before it comes.
The pictures of are of the old Equinox Opera House, in Manchester Vermont. It was recently approved for demolition by the town, so it's days are numbered. You can click on it for a larger view, or visit my facebook album to see more shots.
The Title was blatantly stolen from the New York Times, who take someone from the obituaries and fleshes out their life in a column called "Every Life Tells a Story." I am not an obituary reader, but that title gave me the idea.