The Process of Moving...

as i move through the house,

removing my things

it feels as if i am removing myself

as well,

little by little

gathering myself

back into my arms.

and my boxes are titled

by the content,

full of things

written in coded text

like so many memories

packed up and waiting

for my

next

adventure.

the scratches and chips

on my furniture

tell a history

of quick escapes

and near misses,

of searching

and searching

and searching

for home.

i look at all my shit

fondly,

and remember

people and places,

surprises

excitement

lessons

sorrow and

delight

i re-member myself

from the stories

that they tell.

and i think i'm beginning to like

all that is

bittersweet,

the sweet makes the bitter thicker-

wrapped around my tongue

it tastes like being alive,

while the bitter makes the sweet

just that much richer-

and i savor each moment

here

with you.