The family dwindles

Once upon a time 
there were eight of us 
crammed into small squares
of tiny space, 
piled on top of one another 
like unruly sacks of wheat.

The hovel seemed
large enough at the time,
with bunkbeds 
three to a bed,
and maybe,
if you were lucky, 
a single bed, 

Until one by one 
we all graduated, 
peeling away from the family
like tired leaves.

Collectively gathering
on required holidays
with each of us 
bringing our own
arsenal of achievements, 
some of us arriving 
empty-handed, 
much to the dismay of our parents.

Gathering now 
as another one of us 
disintegrates and disappears,
each of us left behind
lamenting the loss,
as we stare into caskets 
and pat the urns
looking for something nice to say,

At the same time 
remembering those family squabbles
the uneven give-and-take of siblings 
trying to get their way.

Now there are only 
three of us 
left with old ashes 
and dried memories.

What is left to say as
every year a few more disappear

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