Eva

what it is

They packaged her life

with care into various boxes

neatly labelled,

given away to charities,

and sold to the highest bidder.

Sending her off 

with only the barest of necessities

She knew she wouldn't stay long.

All there was now

was waiting for the dirt.

Author's Note

Reviews

[Cassie]

Sad poem that reminds me of what is happening in the world right now

[Lyn Anderson]

thank you so much. Eva was very special to me.

[Gee]

I thought I had commented on this, obviously not.
Can so relate to this as 2 years ago moved my mum into an elderly folks complex and had to box, bag and give away much of her life as not enough room at the inn
Found this quite sad, very well written though.

[Lyn Anderson]

It is. And the tasks become so overwhelming that the loved one is an unintentional after thought in the fray.

[barleygirl]

I love a poem that doesn't glorify or pretty-up death. Your matter-of-fact details SHOW instead of tell, that death ends up being a dance between the carcass & the dirt. That's really powerful & honest, the things I love about your writing. So inspiring, now I want to write about this someday! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you my dear. hugs back

[Neville]

Full to brimming with loss.. tis the very way of it.. a remarkably sad poem & one that just about say's it all..... Neville

[Lyn Anderson]

Thanks Neville. Every "retirement home" knows this well

[Neville]

I know it only too well.. you take care now x

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

Mine is more ash..but yeah...i think they started packing my boxes a bit early or maybe I was just taught to pack my own... I thought I was getting somewhere in this line and then this dude came along with a sign and said April fooled ya...this is the line for life.....Monday Girl..

[Lyn Anderson]

Thanks my friend. :)

[Tamara Beryl Latham]

Your poem is heart-wrenching and its rhythmic drum beats that of truth. You strip away life's veneer leaving the reader, devoid of flesh, to reflect on what will only be his or her eventual fate. Great poetry! :)

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you for stopping by. I appreciate it

[Tamara Beryl Latham]

You're welcome and I'm elated I did. Keep writing!

[angel]

We are reduced to barest necessities in death. It seems a sensible way to live, to me. Less for others to worry about getting rid of.
I am a minimalist when it comes to earthly possessions; a couple hundred books collected over my lifetime, and a box of tapes and CDs, sort of irrelevant now. No player for either, isn't that strange?
I have this ancient dinosaur of a PC, still limping along. That's it, besides 4 skirts, 6 shirts, and three pairs of black stockings--that's like six, though, with just one leg.
See what a minimalist I am? Only one leg! And one very old shoe, which I rarely wear.
Wow, looking at the length of this post, I guess I have quite a lot! I have my memories, and they are as beautiful as any jewels.
I live in the house of my father in law, so none of the furniture is mine.
I have little, yet I have all I need.

[Lyn Anderson]

So true and thank you for your insights

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and then again we are reminded...we can't take it with us...our hearts and souls we will, but earthly possessions lose importance at the end...and maybe should long before the end.

nicely done.
j.

[Lyn Anderson]

Yes, I think they should. I'll be working on that I think

[Chris Shaw]

This made me feel that Eva's possessions were more important than she was. She had become a corpse to be disposed off quickly and unceremoniously. Yes, life and death can be cruel.

Chris

[Lyn Anderson]

It feels that way sometimes. When the tasks overwhelm the person. Thank you

[h d e rushin]

I was in Toronto recently on the strip where the trans women walked in the daylight. "Neatly Labelled" the star like radiating (I had forgotten this phrase, and thank you for reminding me) means that the poem (of anyone) has to be, or be read as, an event in the space of the world. That even the poet leaves only some dust, some carbon perhaps waiting to be worn or in the distant future, used as fat or flint to start a fire. When I visit my mother's house, I still see the grey urn the holds the ashes of my father. It is an aesthetic example of isolation.

this is a great poem only because words alone can speak what you really mean.//dana

[Lyn Anderson]

Thank you for your kind review. Death is as mundane as it is cruel.