expungence

this is not the first page,
nor have I reached the last

on days such as this,
what I most want to do

is fling them all upwards
for complete expungence
into the winds,

which in February burgeon
and whirl, thieving breath
and birds and leaves

and so why not these?

© Sarah Whiteley

the accordion

whether the accordion stays or goes
becomes a matter of friendship –
and of the necessity or needlessness
of tokens of attachment

a heavy load can make for a longer road,
and other favors await a verdict –
whether box or bin, either out or in,
feeling and hand both hesitate

though the heart of the gift remains whole
in spite of this inquest –
true affection demands no keepsakes,
and gathers no dust on its bellows

© Sarah Whiteley

I am in the midst of downsizing for the big move next month. I find the days sliding by at an alarming rate, with still so much to do. It will all get done, I am certain – after much hard work and lots of letting go of the things I truly do not need. Whether the accordion makes the move with me? I’ll be sure to let you know. 🙂

I have not named what it is I am grieving…

I have not named
what it is I am grieving –
letting go becomes
unfeasible in such a state

perhaps it is simply
for a space which carries
both the gravity
and lightness of leaving

a place where inhaling
and exhaling
become something other
than separate acts –

disparate sides
of the same smooth stone,
palmed for the easy comfort
of its rounded weight

© Sarah Whiteley