The Fine Art of Weeding

Down on bended knee,

the evidence of sad neglect

lies before me.

Tufts of green clumps sprout

among the rocks.

Paper, cloth and memories

piled high or boxed away

in dark closets

and the dark recesses of my mind.

Resigned to the task at last,

I begin the work of peeling away

the vast clutter of my life:

All the unread books,

All the unrealized dreams,

All the too tight jeans,

All the sad regrets,

All the friends who

are friends no more,

And the damn weeds!

With a subtle twist of the wrist

and a sharp yank at the roots

(remember to get the roots or

the weeds will return

in numbers larger than before)

…the battle begins.

Once lifted from the soil,

I lay the casualties aside,

turning a blind eye to

what I have done.

I feel both liberated and sad,

but somehow more in control of

my newly fashioned life.

A cleansing of the soul

can only begin with

A cleansing of your space,

inside and out.