My Suitcase

I have been carrying this old suitcase for my entire life

It is now a scarred and battered container of memories and reality

Some might call it baggage, but it contains all that I am

And each time I open it, I find the bits and pieces of experience that have made me

I often wish that I could forget much of the contents

But I find those old photos which make me smile and remember

Scattered amongst the pangs and angst of what was

And I sometimes think of culling them

Keeping only the warm happiness and love which has sustained me in life

But they are stuck together by the tears and sorrow of my past

I am unable to separate them without destroying all

And yet, how can I deny the scars and scuffs which adorn the worn patina of age

The latches which once locked my secrets and dreams so securely within

Now seem to flip open at inopportune moments

Scattering random pieces onto the floor of my consciousness

I try to put them all back, but I know I have missed a few

Left behind along the trail that I have travelled

Those lost memories have made my suitcase lighter as I travel now

But its cuts and marks and worn surface are a testament to my life

I have lived, and I have loved living

But there is still one more flight to take, and I think I will check my bag this time.


James Geehring

I am an observational poet, fascinated with the wonders of life. I have worked many years with my hands and now hope the work of my mind pleases


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