The sky is everywhere

Grief is a houseWhere the chairsHave forgotten how to hold usThe mirrors how to reflect usThe walls how to contain usGrief is a house that disappearsEach time someone knocks at the doorOr rings the bellA house that blows into the airAt the slightest gustThat buries itself deep in the groundWhile everyone is sleepingGrief is a house where no one can protect youWhere the younger sisterWill grow older than the older oneWhere the doorsNo longer let you inOr out.