There is a sweater, old as a memory,
stuffed in the back of the closet
where the dust gathers like forgotten thoughts.
And the lamp, chipped at the base,
still flickers in the corner of the room
as though it might one day turn on
and shed light on its own history.
A stack of postcards from vacations
you never took—those places
so far away now that you couldn’t even
pronounce their names with any sincerity.
The teacup your aunt once gave you
because she thought you needed it—
but when did you ever drink tea?
Take the box from the attic and open it,
then let it go, like a balloon in the wind,
floating away into the sky of your own indifference.
These things, the broken and the forgotten,
will one day be as invisible
as the seconds that slip by, unnoticed,
no more important than an old photograph
of someone you no longer recognize.
And yet, here you are,
clutching a faded receipt
as if it holds the key to a past
that no longer needs to be carried.
YOU ARE READING
21 Poems Of Reflection
PuisiA compilation of reflective poems I wrote upon reading Miyamoto Musashi's book Dokkōdō (The Way of Walking Alone). The 21 principles in his book inspired me to write the poems you're about read here.
