Chest

Have I ever unpacked this?

Or does it sit in the bottom of my chest?

That chest is filled with papers, pictures, perfect moments,

Every which one I’ve striven to hold.

But at the bottom of this chest,

Don’t I have a memory still waiting for me to unfold?

I’ve written that memory, re-written it, again and again,

Changed the ending; its ultimate meaning in my head.

But I’ve yet to push through this self-made clutter,

To dig deep down; remove that seemingly short entry,

For fear that it might leave my heart hollow.

How do I unpack something

That feels as constant as my heart beat?

How do I unpack something

That I fear might draw every last breath from my chest?

—Written by Sandy Heights

Image by BeataKam from Pixabay