Dying to Pack

A moment's reflection as I pack up one life and begin the ending of it.

 

The moment is finally here to disengorge my messy self,

into neat brown boxes, with ticks and corners.

To take stock of all that I’ve acquired,

And lost. All that was. And wasn’t.

To sense myself flickering, becoming finite.

To feel the muscular back of the time I have passed here.

 

It’s hard not to flash forward amongst the packing tape

And see a moment when I myself rest in another box,

And someone else stands here taking stock of all we acquired,

And all that they have now lost.

 

November 2009