Ashes to Ashes
“Now we are old with only mortal gods and rent to pay for all we have loved. Ashes to ashes, we knew this would happen, but we never want it to be now.” – From Sunflowers, 1999
I saw my life in a box
of mementos and photos
and outdated clothes
that nobody wants
A cardboard collection
extensions of self
with props and scraps
that defend my existence
and memories like atoms
that hold me together
They fade but I cling
I hoard and remember
They pile up like the newspapers
At my dead brother’s door
Yellowing proof
destined for worm food
My life flashed before me
is yesterday’s news
I imagine skimming parts
that rise to the surface
and organizing my life
like a table of contents
I’m a name, date and number
with a legacy of chapters
in a story that will never
be told the same twice
Delete and donate
Don’t burden the planet
Angels are in the attic
sorting someone’s thrift shop finds
The birds are my angels
Their old songs are new
I tell time through the windows
by the flowers that are in bloom
I saw my life in a box
like an unsolved case
Crushed like diamonds
in a buried fortune
Distilled like a body
in a funeral vase
__________Colleen Redman / Poets and Storytellers United/ dVerse Poets Pub
August 1st, 2021 3:40 am
Shuffling off this mortal coil is a sobering thought. We are but ashes and dust and all our collected treasures in the end are just bibs and bobs for the thrift shop. Excellent poem…
well expressed.
August 1st, 2021 4:03 am
A llifelong hoarder, I am currently having to sort through and discard many things, due to renovations going on here. I came to realise only today that the things I have been trying to hang on to via these physical items are in truth my memories – and now here is your poem with the same realisation! It’s beautifully written, and I particularly like the birds being your angels.
August 1st, 2021 7:19 am
Never regret the ups and downs in your life just be grateful that you enjoyed it and are still happy with how it all turned out.
August 1st, 2021 9:22 am
Belongings, even our bodies, drop away over time yet how extraordinary is now when we find it. My favorite lines:
The birds are my angels
Their old songs are new
I tell time through the windows
by the flowers that are in bloom
August 1st, 2021 11:13 am
yes, this is so relatable. i have clothes that are surely outdated, and very old. i have old books i loved, old vinyl records (and no player). every now and then , i make efforts to clear out some, but some are really memories i like to hold on to for a longer while.
i really enjoyed reading this poem. and yes, lately i am also revisiting my old poems. 🙂
August 1st, 2021 12:09 pm
This beautifully written poem recalled a time, after my husband’s death, when I had given his clothes to charity and cleared out his dresser when I was left with his wallet and keys, favorite cufflinks and tie clasps, favorite book or two, a lucky piece he carried always in his pocket, and a few small items and sat weeping thinking “Is this the sum of a lifetime?”
August 1st, 2021 12:23 pm
Life is a rather complex garden. The things we grow, the things we hold on to say so much… Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason why I get so much joy–and often sorrow–out of dusting and rearranging… it’s like talking to old friends and remember special moments. And flowers and birds, birds as angels will keep me smiling for days.
August 1st, 2021 8:56 pm
Hearing of funerals, if I had all my precious memories stuff in a little box I would like to have it all copied and then buried with me. Maybe ever mix up my ashes with the notes.
This was a fun read, LLN.
..
August 3rd, 2021 7:25 pm
Angels are in the attic
sorting someone’s thrift shop finds
I absolute adore this image. I wish I had an attic!
August 4th, 2021 9:02 am
I’m not very sentimental. My wife and I move quite frequently, and we always throw a ton of stuff away as we pack. If we throw away or give away scraps of things that “defend our existence”, do we have something else in our life which will do the same thing? Or do we need to live in such a way we will be remember kindly by others? Does it really matter?
Thank you. This poem is fantastic.
August 5th, 2021 7:44 pm
I liked this very much. We inhabit our things and they inspire us, they comfort us, they remind us, they become stand-ins for us and when we go, or when those we love have gone, those things take on deeper meanings, longer stories, more history. They went through the war, the sandstorms, the heartbreaks, the deaths, divorces, fires, storms, the moves, the new jobs, the graduations, the grief. Yes, this is a true poem and real. Excellent work!
August 5th, 2021 11:10 pm
I love this reflection on the end of life. Your last stanza ia perfect. Our life gets distilled like ashes in a vase.
I work at the Habitat Restore and we continually get truck loads of things from people’s parents who have passed and the children do not want the old furniture, the old pictures, or the old mementoes. It is amazing what comes through.
August 6th, 2021 11:47 am
Beverly wondered, “Is this the sum of a lifetime?”
Sadly, all we are left with are keepsakes and memories. There’s value in both.
August 6th, 2021 1:12 pm
… “a legacy of chapters in a story that will never
be told the same twice” … grow your garden well.
(this poem is stunning)
August 6th, 2021 10:19 pm
This hits me right in my guts. I enjoyed this reflection of a life in a box, thought I am hopeful of this:
The birds are my angels
Their old songs are new
August 7th, 2021 10:04 am
Beautiful poem. I enjoyed all the nostalgia and the tumble of images you created, particularly this stanza:
“Yellowing proof
destined for worm food
My life flashed before me
is yesterday’s news”
🙂
August 8th, 2021 1:01 am
This resonates deeply. I have been de-cluttering, going through paperwork, old greeting cards, etc. I sit near my front window to watch the birds at the feeder as I struggle to purge. Absolutely love your poem.