I started in the garage –
easy enough to clear the space
where five-year-old paint waited
to be taken to waste recovery.
Into the closet, sorting socks
and scarves and shirts,
and finding joy in the growing pile
of items to give away.
Books challenged me
to examine where I’ve been
and where I’m going
and how much weight I want to carry.
I made gifts of long-lost treasures found
in forgotten crannies,
passing along stories with the tokens,
as though curating the artifacts of my life.
A stack of paper gives me pause:
If I release my attachment
to all the things that have wounded me,
then who will I be?
And I think, how courageous the tree
to let go of all its leaves and trust.
Something new will blossom