Tuesday, March 12, 2013


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.)


  1. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom. I completely feel you when you say that you can hear her talking to you.


  2. oh heck..i can imagine how emotional it must be to go through all these...hugs and all the best for the move myrna

  3. A very touching poem, Myrna. Sad that your mother was not able to say the word "I love you," but how wonderful that she saved the albums filled with pictures of you....obviously filled with love!

    Time's generation definitely get compressed when one is looking at old pictures. The old are young once more; and we realize again how quickly time does pass!

  4. This is part of the moving that I don't like, sorting out, remembering and recalling both good and sad times ~ That part of your Mom is touching ~ I wish you well in your moving ~

  5. it is hard, sifting through those memories...some light some dark and knowing what to keep and what to hold onto....my boys love to look at old pictures...we keep a box full of loose ones and will sit and tell stories of what was happening when they were taken....

  6. How moving. I loved this poem. This is one of my favorite activities thumbing through photo albums and memories.

  7. The older we get the more we realize we have to keep the photos in our minds and heart for they can't be saved forever by others after we are gone...it's lovely to reminiscence even if it tugs at the heart as part of the grieving process..you indeed did clean your closets..peace.

  8. Oh I know those moments looking thru old photos, the past so swiftly gone...........so poignant. Especially looking at our children's childhood photos. Sigh. The best thing about moving is down sizing and decluttering. Loved this poem, Myrna. Our moms' generation seemed to have difficulty saying words of love. On my mother's deathbed I realized that she did love me, too, in her own way, as best she could. I'm glad your mother's saving of your photos revealed her love for you .

  9. How deep and lovely!

    ""I love you,"
    she says via the many pictures she saved."

    ALOHA from Honolulu
    Comfort Spiral
    ~ > < } } ( ° > <3

  10. Dear Myrna, this post touched me very much, as I can so relate to these sentiments. I too recently relived my past with joy and tears, as I sorted through some of my old possessions, photos included. And I too saved the memories in boxes for future melancholy and discarded some of them for good...
    Have a wonderful weekend,

  11. I am glad the photos do some talking for your mother's heart.

  12. Reading this reminds me of how hard it is to discard clutter, whether in my house or in my mind, although sometimes it seems to fall away as if of its own accord.

  13. i love the nooks and closet rooms in your life, and the ancestors living along with you and loving the respect and thanks you give to them.