all the way
one drawer down,
five more to go,
digging into corners,
unpacking, upending,
the small belongings
of another life.
socks and shirts,
pants and jackets,
things I bought you,
things I didn’t-
those bits and pieces
of who you were.
remembering well
I tuck it all away,
consign my loving care
to boxes and bags,
dull, impersonal,
empty of thought.
one by one they go,
each piece, every part
so soft and light,
hard and heavy, too,
filled with a weight
I can no longer bear.
so I go on discarding
these reminders,
taking back the space
I need to reclaim,
making room again
for what’s to come.
at last I’m there,
all the way down
to the bottom, done;
drawers emptied,
one life packed away,
and mine ready.
Listen to this poem read aloud: