In my world, poetry too often compares to the practice of speaking in tongues. An interpreter and translation is necessary for practical application of the channeled message to a congregation. While meaning may be clear to the author of the poem, I’m more often than not left scratching my head and frustrated from the effort to understand. I want to comprehend not only the words and meaning, I need, need, need to feel the intention of the author resonate in my soul. Therapists have asked to use my poetry with their clients and I’ve shared the work with friends. By sending my poems out into the universe, I hope the simple words I’ve chosen will clearly speak from my heart to yours. My intention is to offer my words to those who need a voice and, for whatever reason, can’t find their own at this moment in time.
I’ve packed
memories away
again.
Carefully washed and folded clothes
once molded
to plump, warm bodies.
Now,
nothing more
than limp polyester and cotton,
layer
upon
layer
in apple boxes
in the corner of the closet.
If I save clothes
and toys
little white shoes with pink rosebuds,
pictures stubbed out
in finger paint,
broken necklace charms
old hair bows,
I’m saving them.
No.
I’m saving me
for them.