Trapped In A House Fire: Her Name Is Soledad

Two houses separate my old parent’s house, where my brother’s family now lives, from the burning homes. I was told the event happened early Wednesday evening. We are grateful that firemen came before the fire spread to their direction. In times like this, when your family was spared from the tragic moments, you have no words to shout and say, but “Dear Lord, Thank you!”

A poem about an old woman trapped in a house fire

A fire spread so fast worsen by profane tank explosion.

Sadly I heard, there is one casualty, an old woman. More than prayers, I would like to offer this poem in memory of her.

My prayers also go to those whose houses were burned down. It wasn’t a pleasure to have your house on fire. It was a pleasure to see your family alive and safe.

Trapped in a Housefire

Her name is Soledad.
She, maybe is anybody’s grandmother.

She cannot see
the light towards the door.
Blind and alone in the dark.
She hears the sirens sing
across the busy street.
Riddled with smoke.

She, who lost everything
in the house fire.
Her favorite red scarf.
Her rosary.
Her pillow
that wipes her tears at night.

She didn’t stay
to bury the chain
of being helpless.
…She was trapped.
Ah, two yards away,
a tiny creek
is the distance left
between life and death.

She, who lost everything
…her sight.

And now, her life.

Note: With due respect, I kept the woman’s name fictional.


Ymatruz is the author of poetry book: The Coffee Cries Foul. She founded hoping to accommodate works of other poets and writers, anywhere in the world. She also writes about her blogging and migration experience on PoetsGig. Her motto: "By experience you learn. By embracing mistakes, you become a master of perfection."
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