What are all these things we keep?
Hoarded bags in corners creeped.
Spilling wants of greed we heaped.
And memories better buried deep.
Why is it that we can’t let go
Of this crippling overflow?
An accumulated mountain grown,
We must shed tears on what we’ve sown.
Proceed: Find floors and go with faith.
Accept the pain of unembrace.
That when once open rooms you face
You will know a home of grace.
© Julie Bartha-Vasquez 2013
Notes on the Poem:
|"Hoarders" or my house? I'll never tell!|
This is my entry for yesterday. My inspiration: my garage, which we barely made a dent in cleaning. It's been rendered useless by over 14 years of stuff, 90% no longer needed or wanted... but oh! remember this! Oh, we so wanted to do that!. And... Oh! We might still be able to use this! No, we won't. We are one camera crew and a feral cat colony away from being pitied on a cable reality series. But still, it is so hard to let go of so many things... -- WNG