are hard to think about…
so she puts them in her pockets.
pockets for sadness
and pockets for pleasure.
pockets for measuring her worth
and pockets for what she thinks she deserves.
pockets for serving other’s needs,
and pockets for the truth of things.
Each one has its purpose:
to protect her heart
from shattering again.
She began to collect them
–a very long time ago—
when the life that she was living
that she’d hope for.
She thought it was selfish
to realize there was no ‘perfect’.
So she gathered up
–all of the things—
she couldn’t think about
and put them in her pockets.
They filled up
so much one day
she noticed the lining
beginning to fray
on the sides of her pockets.
So she secretly sewed patches
on the sides of her pockets
to keep things from getting away.
It worked for a while, it really did,
until she couldn’t convince herself
the weight they weighed
was too big.
When the first one made its hasty escape,
“What a waste!
It took up so much of my time and space.”
She cried for awhile
when she realized
a tiny bit of weight had been lifted as well.
And so she decided,
It was now or never.
She could turn them into something that was beautiful and clever,
like a little lesson hiding inside some nonsense poetry.
So she put on her prettiest of dresses
–that had millions of pockets—
(and millions of patches)
stood where everyone could see her,
gave each of the things
–she couldn’t think about—
wings and a kiss.
Sent them on their way, saying:
“Please, find someone who needs this.”