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The Depot

Mar 17, 2016

I left my suitcases.

Inside were keep-sake rings and bracelets

photo albums of my trip to Europe, and of my family.

My books and clothes and personal items,

and I trusted they would be there when I got back.

But I never came back.

What dust was all this stuff ground into?

The depots of the world, scattered with personal belongings.

The dumps, the rubble, the piles of

portraits, jewelry, clothing, dolls.

Scattered, looted, lost.

I wonder if we have a safe deposit box in heaven?

If our angel takes us there when we’re dead.

Here’s your favorite bear.

That bracelet from your aunt,

that ring from your grandpa.

The photo of yourself in the apple tree.

And other stuff you forgot you even had.

The erosion of one’s life is odd in

the whittling away of small things.

This tiny detail,

thought forgotten

is glistening in the dust

like a dropped jewel,

remembered in the heart of the divine.

Image(s) from Wikimedia Commons
Photo by Edyabe


Kimmy Sophia BrownKimmy Sophia Brown has loved humor and music and freedom for as long as she can remember.She is especially passionate about the environment and caring for animals.

She writes the column "From the Back Porch" as well as reviews of music in her column "MusicViews". Her goal in her music reviews is to introduce music she loves to people who may not have heard that particular artist or CD. For information about how to submit a CD for review, click here.

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