Sometimes I am overwhelmed with the fear that I will say ADIEU to this life too soon. Like a farmer planning what to PLANT, counting out seeds and multiplying by the numbers of acres and possible FARMS, bewildered and melancholic with the notion that trying to do everything means doing nothing. That the BAGGY, torn pants will never be mended, the WACKO, harebrained schemes left untried.

Seeking to settle in, to quiet the swirling mind, I embrace the HAVOC, the chaos. This, this is the leaning-in worth doing – leaning until it flips and becomes a swirl of energy that I and I alone can contain.

Georg’ann

Gathering the remnants
of what little we have left
Life WOVEN of memories
My fingers exploring the content of each box
pausing to SAVOR each bit
as I weave it back into me
While jackhammers and wrecking balls
make HAVOC outside
Cacophonous devastation
As I silently rebuild
Gathering the remnants
Of what little we have left

Heather