Thursday, July 25, 2013
dVerse: Boxes of Me
cleaning out the attic of my mind
that was stored in trunks and boxes:
collages of horror that once had no meaning,
memories in magazine pages pieced together,
three hole punched random pages
"borrowed" from a binder now unknown,
rows of binders cataloging mind images
the undone jigsaw puzzles of what was my life.
art therapy still without meaning
though i healed without the knowing.
pages torn from magazines
in doctors' offices and waiting rooms
that one time meant something
but never went with anything else.
page after page i rifle through
tossing many into the trash.
but the plastic folders meant to keep
where memories became as clear as the folder
they were slipped in.
now in retrospect
watching my pieced together past
in piles on the floor
am finally able to let some go.
any scrap of paper with words or numbers
(now no longer any meaning)
could not be released.
drawings and scribbles
and numerology ad infinitum,
colorful scraps of nothingness (now)
at one time essential to my being.