Scraps

I’m going to practice a little vulnerability here by posting a poem I wrote today as I was going through an old box I found. I don’t usually share my poetry…I am too harsh of a critic where that is concerned. But since I started recovery, I have been very cautious…too cautious in some ways, too hesitant, too safe. So this year is one of expansion…one of forward movement…one of taking life-affirming risks. Here goes…

Scraps

My past –
like Schrodinger’s Cat – both
dead and alive
known and unknown
until I open the box

Scraps of paper
poems saved
(You alone are my evil and my good)
random quotes
notes, letters, gifts of words

(Moving through my life one piece at a time.)

A shirt you wore
(and I saved for 15 years)
I clutch it to me – inhaling – your scent replaced
by the smell of time and cardboard
Do I keep it another 15 years? Tucked away
until I die and all meaning is lost?

(Another scrap from another life.)

First law of Motion – too late for inertia
(leave it at rest) But I didn’t.

Handkerchiefs and hair wraps –
I remember when you wore this.
I remember everything.
I remember nothing.
(I don’t have to.)
I just hoard it in this box.

Mementos of Helen – and Misa –
yet my cruelest month will always be April

(Some things are sacred.)

Photos of friends lost – allocated
to the back of my mind
bottom of the box
back of the closet
(Better not to remember.)

Second law of Motion – I shove back
Against this moment
Against this past
Against you (vague pronoun reference)
Against me (even more vague)
Against us (laughable)

I push back against the collective You –
Lovers each replacing the replaced – layers
and layers of Yous and yesterdays

(Some things should be forgotten.)

Postcards, ticket stubs,
Signs and slogans picked up elsewhere
(Beware of pickpockets, loose women, llamas, and lions.)

A card – the only card you ever gave me
(To love and be loved…)
Your childlike scrawl reminding me

The last scrap in the box – a fortune from a cookie
Lottery numbers and a reminder
             Treat yourself with the same dignity
             and respect you give others.

(Not everything is an omen.)

Third law of Motion – Equal and opposite reaction
(Karma bites you in the ass.)
I wonder if you have a box of me somewhere
Scraps of my life, my love

The box has less than it did at first.
A little more lost – thrown out
Each time I open it

(I kept the shirt, the card, the scraps –
Until next time.)