Do you leave when it is time to go or are you the type who exits early? Does departure time find you lingering trying to squeeze out one more minute rooted in this spot? Are you the kind of person who loves the street, but avoids the parade? Can you bear to go, bear to stay, bear to think that the world exists beyond this door? Do you move with the other sheep when all the crowd says, “Baa.” Are you fleet with a sky full of clouds obeying the breeze, flaunting the tides? Do you change with the seasons or are you passed from hand to hand, living your life in the snow of a globe? My life is my life, but the most vital evidence of how I live it is what I do on thresholds.
Shake the trunk of certainty and see what falls to the ground
I stand over the refuse can and peer in.
I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards
I have so much trouble accepting
There is no reclaiming most of this growing mass.
There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet.
I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets
I want to make a new world from the old
Save past relationships and make them somehow fresh.
I don’t want to drown, I fear I can’t think fast enough
To keep the wave from breaking over us all
I will maintain an open mind
And be grateful my life was retrieved from the dust bin.
I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost.
I was once lost too.