The stack of boxes
you’ve piled over years,
the dynamics of
those 2D measurements
apt to crush the tunnel on
your back.
Put down that mountain.
Most of it doesn’t even
matter.
It is a hundred years old.
Why should you carry
the burden of its senility?
Nonchalance must rule
over eighty
or even sixty.
You’ll be surprised
how the boxes will sink
with your indifference,
Or be squashed when
you look away.
Boxes of people
Boxes of demands
Heartbreaks & regrets
Desires, inspirations
Boxes of achievements
& failures
Of revenge.
It’s strange how easily
out of sight will become
out of mind.
(Image courtesy : Pixabay)
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A Hundred Quills 
Heart lifting. The boxes seem a little more weightless. Thank you Sonia for this beautiful metaphorical poem on life.
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I am glad, Susan❤️
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Yeah, why do we do that? Boxing and labeling things. In the end we’re all spirit.
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Yes, Selma!
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Somehow, boxes do seem to be the bane of our existence. Here is folk singer Pete Seeger’s take on boxes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_FB9bwyp6M
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Liz this is so true, now as it was several years ago. Boxes can come to mean so many things in our lives and in general. I remember writing another poem about fitting into boxes on ration forms. As you say, they are the bane of our existence. Thank you for stopping by.
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You’re welcome, Sonia.
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Sometimes indifference is hard to acknowledge, however it is worth trying.
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Hi Moushmi. Yes, it is harder to practice. But you are right. It is worth the try.
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