UnbuCkling the Straps

Sitting

Unbuckling the straps

That hold “my” burdens

Laying them down

Gently examining

Each learning

Hurt

Pleasure

And piece of clothing

That I have used

To identify myself

Burdens that I carry

From this life

And ones that I

Have agreed known or unknowingly

To carry of my ancestors

My blood and bones

I examine lovingly

And decide

That, this morning,

I want to see

Who I am

See who I am

I know that I need some “clothes”

Walking around “naked”

Might not be a choice

But hell if I want

To carry aound those burdens

So I practice

I sit and unbuckle the straps

To get a feel for who I am

And remember more and more

A funny thought just came and made me laugh out loud.

No offence but I am thankful (my thanksgiving plug) that Marie Kondo isn’t my master.

I’m kind of taking my sweet time, being gentle with myself (mostly) but also wanting to get the job done…very tricky since I don’t know my exact timeline.

So, to amend my poem thought, it’s not just the sitting down and unbuckling. It’s paying attention during the day and seeing what works and what doesn’t and foraging/forging through my life with all the joy I can muster.
Whose with me? Do I hear a hip-hip-hooray?