Tuesday, March 12, 2013
A MOVING TASK
There are closets in my house, and my mind
storing stories, imprinted images, tarnished,
discolored by time recreating the past.
As I clean them out discarding once valuable clutter,
spirits rise, enriching the moment.
Grandparents, friends, relatives smile
sharing happy times, some I never knew.
I relive my wedding, thinking we were pretty cute.
I recognize my grandson in my daughter's babyhood.
I see youth gradually fade from those transitioned -
ancestors now roaming unknown realms.
(Thoughts of my own fading quickly traverse my view.)
Then the surprise of grief interrupts. Through flow of streaming tears
I see my mother's albums replete, not with her photos, but mine.
And in my life's chronicle, I hear words she never spoke.
From the vapors of her grave, "I love you,"
she says via the many pictures she saved.
Time's dimensions get compressed on my treasures and my clock.
Impossible to sort generations in what should have been an hour's task.
Finally, it's time to bury unwanted ghosts in a box guiltily marked trash.
Others are re-stored for future visits to the past.
They'll sleep in darkness in a corner of a house.
But they'll live too in my heart, beaming light,
refreshing the closets of my mind.
(Submitted to Dverse Poets.)