Into this box – old paints and thinners and primers and stains and cleaners and brushes. Take it away.
Into that box – broken phones and batteries, cords and cameras no longer blinking. Take it away.
On the porch – books and clothes and more books and more clothes, and stuff and stuff and stuff. Take it away. Please take it away.
And paintings from the walls, and dishes from the shelves, and papers and papers and papers. I beg of you, please take it away.
Make it gone, gone, gone.
Things that are torn, things that are worn. Gone. Gone.
Things that are ripped and stripped. Gone. Gone.
Old and ugly and stained and cracked. Gone. Gone. Make it all gone.
Make it all gone!
But then what? When the dust is settled and the room is clear… Then what?
In the silence of the room, the cool of the porch, the softness of sheets and the call of the mockingbird, then what?
In the quiet, in the space, then what?
….. Who knows.
But now there is space to discover, a place to allow.
Perhaps to cry
Perhaps to stretch
Perhaps to shape my body to claim the bed
Clawing my way to space, to room, to breath, to stretch.
Obsessing my way to silence, to peace, to grieving, to allowing.
Reconfiguring, re-shaping, re-forming.
My house, my heart, my life.
So continue, Dear One. Follow the impulses.
……. For Whatever will unfold.