How it is
that it comes to this —
that all that matters
is clean, deathly clean?
And yet we still move forward.
I strip you clean
of everything that belongs to you,
and peel and scrape
until all your bones
lay bare to the bold sun
and in turn
I bring home boxes of oddities —
cairns in each room —
making me wonder who
will clean my house come time
I too
will be so stripped,
peeled, scraped,
laid bare. I pray the sun warms,
sheds kindness as it bleaches
and that somewhere
in the great pile of debris
is forgiveness —
a gentle rain, a mild breeze,
an open meadow with wide arms.
Poems from in between 
7 responses to “Day 7, On cleaning out my father’s house”
Strange how we are all laid out like bleached bones. “Clean” is beautiful
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Thank you. And yes it ends that way if it is not that way already! Sigh.
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It seemed like a ritual when I went through the same thing. To think that a lifetime could be reduced to trinkets and valuables, and struggling to decide which is which when every one holds a memory, felt almost like sacrilege. It brought me close to assessing my own life, but not nearly close enough.
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We live in a culture of ‘stuff’ — I am trying hard to renegotiate my relationship with it. We will see … Thanks for sharing your experience.
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So perfect that the “forgiveness” is that final turning line. Others, ourselves…
Much to think on here; especially for me, the question of clean/empty. And that “laid bare.” Wow.
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Yes. I am working through all of this now. Have you heard of this — https://www.amazon.com/Gentle-Art-Swedish-Death-Cleaning/dp/1501173243. It has given me a lot to think over.
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I thought of exactly that book when I read this!
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