cocoon of newer days

synopsis:  saved stuff and stored stuff is only a pain.  we are more than THINGS.  there is an evaluation of the past, that is better left unevaluated.  who do you love?

going through the task
of sorting saved items
i recall how my grandmother
tied up christmas cards
in bundles each year
and placed them neatly
in a trunk….

my christmas cards are scattered
in piles of other mail
never properly sorted and stored
mounds of paper i have no idea
what to do with

it just grows
as i feel more helpless to
understand the need

so sorting through things
the box of old mail stares at me
and i don’t want to put my brain through
the torture
and i couldn’t tell you
why…. except that i see it all
as the waste of time it is…
i don’t want to go backwards

everything touched is a memory, visited
things stored because
humans like me
have inherited
a twisted sense of value

even with the knowledge
that on my demise
everything will go in the trash

mostly i find a lot of pain
in the saved items
the one picture of the two kids together
the paint brushes that belonged to my mother
the coffee can of perfectly good lightbulbs
that i switched out for better lightbulbs…

for some reason i have my grandmother’s
dentures and eyeglasses
that were among her things
when her house was dissolved
all sources of pain

who am i, anyway?
i do not want to save anything
i want to save myself
i want to send it all to the trash now
and be a different sort of human

yet i loved the saving-creature that she was
i don’t want to BE that
memories haunt enough, thank you very much

strung out in the dining room
it is a clutter of the past
an inability to let go
a part of me that thinks all
this …crap! call it what it is…
is somehow a part of myself….

yet is it?
you want to call this the sin of hoarding
hoarder! you terrible beast!
but i see it as being a little lost
between what is expected of one single human
this looming pile of expectations

….and what i expect of myself

it is where two ways meet
and my way is going to be wrong to others
no matter
which one i choose

does anyone want some slightly chipped good china
and silverware?
i will never throw a formal dinner party
or keep curios in a cabinet
that is part of a life left behind

all it really is to me
is the memory of taking out the good china
and silver
to set tables for dinner parties where i
was ignored and seen as a bother
the black sheep?
the one who judged things differently

you are supposed to pass it all down to the children
but i don’t want to saddle my children with this
i want my children to be happy
and have parties with red plastic cups
and real friends…..

i want to bury this past
because there is something wrong
with the mounds and mounds of pretension
there is something wrong about it that is much greater
than any wrong of hoarding

any wrong that settles on my heart
within these piles of stuff
these things i keep as some sort of duty
to remind myself that i was never good enough
never blessed enough to be the person
any parent could be proud of….

is all a path of the me i did not become
did i fall short?
i suppose… but thing is, i didn’t want that life
i wanted a life where i could plant a few flowers
find some beauty
even if none saw beauty in me
i always saw life as exploring other paths
finding ways that make sense

don’t give her anything of value!
she will just sell it for drugs!
goes to show how little anyone knew of me
how they don’t understand
how i needed to explore
because i knew you all were lying
and my reality needed a little better foundation

money means nothing to me, that’s true
but i’ve been blessed to have it mean nothing
i know that as well

i know those who have to scrape for a living
do not have that luxury
i know i’ve always walked with a safety net
it makes me cry all the more
for those who haven’t

what does the future hold?

a china plate does not make you a better person
what makes you a better person is
sharing what you have
and calling it good

what makes you a better person
is going online and investigating what china IS

old bones
that’s all it is
those bones were my cocoon
shed a long time ago
for something more flexible
and i’m no butterfly
am a being stuck with shredded skin
piles of absolutism that represent
an existence i rejected
even more thoroughly
than it rejected me

it sits in the dining room
scattered and waiting for judgement
and i take the time to write
putting off the inevitable

i’m a being … human BEING
stuck with all these THINGS
because i am conflicted over necessity
i am still confused as to why the adults of my youth
did not see a little better into where
all their treasured norms lead

i am a human being
flawed but also a little proud
that i’m the one with experience
and i am the one who is still alive!
take that! anyone who thought
black was a bad shade of wool!
what is freedom?
still reaching for an existence
outside of what i was told to be…
only because answers had to be a little more

i know there is a dependency
one thing builds upon another
if there is no place for me in this world
by God i will create one
life is too short
love is only as good as its master

my heart cries bitter tears
thinking of all the past left behind
turning to this task that can’t be put off any longer…
they really ARE bitter
it’s more than heavy sighs
it’s considering how long my strides
have been my own
it is thinking about how i’m seen
and how i manipulate that
to better understand the conclusions of others
all my doing
yes, i suppose i can’t refute that

pray for me, please!
pray for me and my stumbling
desire for my own brand of wisdom
the past fell short
fell SO short
bone plates, really???? what were those minds thinking?
you all decided to mold bones into plates, because that made you WHAT?

THEIR past fell short
her existence was not saved by bundles
of christmas cards
when all she wanted was a good friend…

i was that much
and now contemplating what i could possibly owe to the past
versus what i owe myself



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