Are you still here?

The house feels similar to when I moved in

A couple of years ago

And I was carrying my worldly possessions in endless calico bags

That I had borrowed from my parents.

Now I pack everything I own into old suitcases

And carry them away with me

One by one

Like some sort of ritual.

I value different things now

But I find that I'm still carrying too much with me

In case I should need it in the future,

I'm scared to let go.

I talked to you a lot in the beginning

As I found myself in my new solitude

But I see now that life keeps moving and your voice has faded

And I have been left with a beautiful experience of grief.

The funny thing about grief though

Is that it handles itself differently every time

And it can hurt in so many ways

That you could never have anticipated.

I know that time will keep moving

And that I'm determined to move with it

But in the meantime I can't help drifting around

With my head in the past and my heart in a suitcase.