Mine for Me
A brown organizer stands against a corner,
Used to lie down sideways, one foot shorter,
Now the cube takes a vertical orientation,
Serving a different purpose and reason.
It used to hide itself in the closet,
Humble, out of sight, and quiet,
Now it stands proud and loud in the bedroom,
Showing off my dog’s ashes like a glamorous tomb.
Five black coffee mugs now rest inside a cabinet,
In the kitchen, ready to serve at the next breakfast,
These mugs used to hold pencils and pens,
Colors contrasting this set of black back then.
The mugs used to be bold rock stars,
Out in the open just behind my brown sofa,
Now they retire from the living room spotlight,
Hiding on a kitchen shelf from plain sight.
As I explore this new place, this bright space,
I see these inanimate things changing pace,
Some stay loyal to their original plans,
Some choose a new area on which to land.
Some stay on the same familiar wall,
Some choose to move a few steps down the hall,
Some want to leave me entirely,
Some choose to continue living with me.
I watch things re-purposing themselves,
I watch metal drawers replacing glass shelves,
I watch things asking to enter my life,
I watch things deciding to say goodbye.
My free will is irrelevant and in vain,
If I use force, I would only cause pain,
I let my things rewrite their own stories,
For I, too, want to rewrite mine for me.
— June 5, 2024
