And why should we be ashamed? Yes, I confess I do still find things to love even in the throes of purging what I believe I'll have no further need for. Before the new year, I sifted through bags of old Christmas and birthday cards, glossy pages torn from calendars. There were photographs and postcards from someone who no longer counts me as friend; extravagant, unused gifts from her many trips around the world, which will find another life with someone who desires them more than I could ever bring myself to. Am I really so ungrateful? Who was the self that kept used stamps for their miniature portraits; every extra button from purchased clothing, every pair of boots lacking one buckle or scraped down in one heel but soft around the ankle? Each time we moved, we went through the same motions—deciding what to keep and what to put on the curb for large item removal. When one of my daughters put a hand- lettered sign that said "Free" on a particle board shelf, someone took it away in less than two hours. One of the first things we do when we come into the world is open our mouths, crying toward the light that arcs too high and marbled overhead. The mouth needs no instruction. It roots instinctively to meet its new hungers; it's only the beginning. Who knew that so much near the ground could also be sustaining.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.