Debris
Peonies, a doorknob, a pump
Found amongst the debris
These remnants tell of your life here,
Alone, in the woods, a simple way to be.
We saw the added-on rooms, and
A kitchen that burned.
Did your husband die or
Were you spurned?
Years you lived here,
Centuries ago, on this land.
In this cabin, in these woods,
So near the river, but without any sand.
Was any of the forest planted by you?
The hickory, the birch, or the willow?
When the sun went down, did your
Head hit the pillow?
Did you eat off the land?
Fiddleheads & fungi could have fed you; I think.
Amazingly, the water pump
Still works, pulling water from, the in-ground sink.
We tore your cabin down,
It was not for today’s world.
I hope you don’t mind,
But it was ready to be hurled.
Like the doorknob I found
On the hill to the right.
There’s nothing left to call this a home
Except for what’s left of your light.
Draft, © Carol Labuzzetta, 2023
In the winter of 2019, my husband and I bought this cabin on 14 acres of land. Since then, we’ve demolished the cabin (it was not a local landmark or of historical significance) and put a driveway in that goes up the hill to a ridge top remnant prairie.
Last month, when we were cleaning out the debris from the rock that borders the driveway to the right of the cabin, facing the road, I found an old cast iron door knob. That found object gave rise to the poem you just read.
Today is Poetry Friday. Our host for this week’s round up is Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect. Thank you for hosting, Tricia.
I have a separate post regarding a contest I ran for those who wanted to write a review on Amazon for my poetry chapbook. Thanks to those who entered. We have a winner chosen by a random number generator. Congratulations! Check here to read the post and see who it is!
The Apples in My Orchard 
I love that you wrote a poem about the old cabin and what you found there. Fascinating to try to imagine past inhabitants and what their lives were like. And the water pump still works?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, the water pump works…I am not sure it’s still considered potable water, however. Good for the gardens and plants if we ever choose to build there.
LikeLike
That’s fascinating, Carol! A bit bittersweet, a bit practical, and a lot of weaving past into present. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for your comments, Laura.
LikeLike
You’ve made me curious about the story of the people who lived there. Carol. It’s a story we can only imagine. Thanks for bringing us along.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Tabatha, Actually, I know who the person was who lived there alone until the 1990s – an elderly woman. Her descents still live on the property adjacent to ours. It would be interesting to know more.
LikeLike
Love it, Carol We had a cabin in the mountains for years, now sold to another, but there was a foundation near where we found some ‘debris’, old food cans, a key my daughter kept. I love that you’ve set some words for this place, probably special long ago to someone. Your wondering of the life led there is poignant.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Linda. Finding the door knob was definitely the inspiration for the poem. I had not thought about writing until then.
LikeLike
Carol your post and your poem evoke past memories and tangible remnants of that former time. Your poem reminds me of a Lucinda Williams song ‘Side Of The Road’ -…
“And I wondered about the people who live there.
And I wondered if they were happy and content.
Were there children and a man and a wife?
Did she love him and take her hair down at night?’
Your poem honours that past life, even though the cabin has now gone.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Alan, for your comments. I felt almost compelled to wonder and commit my musings to words when I found the doorknob – we didn’t keep anything in the cabin when we tore it down except for an old wood stove we gave to someone. Given the song you referred me to, I know I’m not the only one that wonders about the past. Thanks.
LikeLike
I love the imaginings of the lived life within the cabin. And what a perfect “find” — a doorknob, the portal to what once was. Thank you!
LikeLike
I like how you imagined and conversed with the woman of the house. I’m sad to think of the cabin gone. The doorknob and the pump, the “remnant prairie” are all such interesting details!
LikeLike
I really love these images and wonderings about what life was like in the cabin. The title “Debris” is fitting.
LikeLike
We once knocked down an old cabin and it had a water pump just like in your photo. It always is interesting what happens to objects over time, how the new becomes old. Entropy, I guess, which is another word that interests me. Love your poem.
LikeLike
So many questions and wonderings about the occupants of old … if the cabin walls could talk! Love the sense of curiosity and kinship here, Carol.
LikeLike