Nothing Remains but the Loss

“In the burned house I am eating breakfast. You understand there is no house, there is no breakfast, yet here I am . . . everything in this house has long been over, kettle and mirror, spoon and bowl . . . ” (From the poem “Morning in the Burned House” by Margaret Atwood.) After the fire, the structure is a memory. The artifacts of daily life within the structure are a memory. The raging violence of the fire itself is a memory. Nothing remains but the loss.