©Glenn Carstenns-Peters

All The Things Left Behind

We saw their mail
Piling on the table by the door
Like if it didn’t
Make it into the living room
It wouldn’t have life

We knew he couldn’t manage
Living in empty rooms
Where memories floated
On dust particles caught
On sun rays
That never touched his skin again

We waited for that day
Like waiting for the elevator light to blink
And doors opening
To pour people
All over us
Because the piles spoke
Behind gluey seals
On certified warnings
That people were coming
To lock the doors forever

They gave him two days
To pack 40 years
Without enough boxes
Or back strength
We called our crews
Our village of warriors
Who moved fast
With fury and frustration
Until every car and truck
Filled to capacity

They made sure we didn’t leave anything
Important behind
Like my mother’s jewelry and coins
Her letters from our father
Her photo albums of us, them
Her artwork, statues, and ashtrays
Crystal punch bowls and the abacus
From our father’s many faraway trips

But what about the cement handprint
And our initials in the backyard tree
And the hopscotch painting out back
And holiday boxes in the garage
And the smell of the Christmas tree
Or the burning embers
In the fireplace

What about the splashing sounds
From summers in the pool
Music playing in earbuds
While sunbathing and daydreaming
And all the poems I wrote
In notebooks
In the backs of binders
That hid from hands and hearts
Other than mine
All left behind.

© Stacey L. Joy