After the Crash
I dreamed I crashed into a wall
All my memories, treasured and not
spilled out and scattered on the ground
diverse and disheveled as unbound pages
of Webster’s unabridged dictionary
Helpless to collect them all
I became abruptly aware I had carried
this mélange of mayhem for so long
a crash was inevitable.
.
What must be kept; what must be
discarded?
I tiptoed slowly through the montage
of mental magma, and unearthed,
from beneath a mound of empathy
and forgiveness, a large slightly tarnished,
lump of love.
I gathered that trio of treasures and stuffed
them into a pocket close to my heart.
There lay great globs of sadness, pain
and madness; reluctantly I tucked away
a modicum of each in my hip pocket
to remind that life is not always perfect.
When I happened upon a handful of humor,
I sprinkled a bit into my breast pocket
But packed the rest in with the sadness,
Where I knew it could make the most difference.
Much lighter, I proceeded on my way.