by Phoebe Clark
An empty vessel,
Deciding what to become
Filled with life, memories. Unwanted paraphernalia
Ready to be thrown away, discarded.
The decision whether to keep forever ‘you’re only getting older’.
Must be filled otherwise it’s a waste, no use to anyone.
‘When’ not ‘if’.
Every cupboard above every wardrobe
Becoming barren,
Devoid of albums and boxes and bags.
A record of my life
Mum sat on the bed with an ear pressed up listening to me kick.
Walking to Grandma’s house dragging my push chair, baby sat quietly.
Ripping open a new china-faced one ‘let’s play mums and dads’
Boxes full of achievements,
The burden of it heavy on my shoulders,
Certificates recognising and acknowledging my mum’s victory ‘was it the best day of your life?’
I didn’t choose to go swimming
Did I? ‘Everyone needs to know how to’
Three choices…
Keep the load,
My own accomplishment, my own choice,
Donate to the charity shop
So someone else can love it, claim it ‘they’re not as lucky as you’
It’ll hurt if it’s yanked after all this time.
Into the bin before it’s too late and
Once its gone I won’t have to struggle ‘it doesn’t have a choice’
Do I?
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