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Setting Upon a Shelf
Where you live is where you are,
Holed up in some duplex of wood
And framed in stucco,
Semi attached to the past,
Independent, yet sharing
The important commodities of life,
In living where you live.
You say you’re moving on
Taking the tattered remains
And chucking them out,
Thrown on a pyre, if allowed,
But not allowed,
In the arid lands
Where you live, where you are.
How much remains where we are,
When we are no longer where we are?
The little DNA’s of fibers and feelings,
Do they mix with the dust
And the sunlight shaft that illuminates,
Like the cremated souls of pets
And of lovers
Setting upon a shelf?
You say you’re moving on.
But, there you stay,
Mindfully monitoring the errant hangers,
Agreeing to controlling them
For the peace it brings
In the duplex of wood
In the stucco frame
Of the house that's your remains.
they make sweet memories
they make sweet memories
ron parrish
Sweet memories?
The cremated souls of pets and lovers?
I was addressing the fact that this induvidual can't move on. He is tied to the DNA and fibers that float in the air of his attached, semi detached relationships. And yet I guess the cremated urns of pets and lovers setting upon a shelf can be construded as sweet memories, it is infact burdening to the act of "moving on." I am the one with ghost on my shelf. He is the one with a dependent independency, livng where he lives for security.
Thanks for reading my scribbles.