Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver

So much is going on in my life that I failed to share a publication. I’ve had several collaborations with Nolcha Fox that I’ve shared, lots of posts to publish on MasticadoresUSA, lots of physical therapy to do prior to a knee replacement, and yada yada.

I wrote this poem which was published by Juan Re Crivello on Hotel for a fire ritual, for which we had to burn a list of things we wanted to let go of. Being an overachiever, I wrote a poem about things I wanted to release. It occurred to me that it’s all about death, really. Why do we let go of whatever doesn’t serve us? Why do we want to unpack the suitcases or even lose them? What are we carrying that is so heavy that we can’t possibly haul it with us when we die? What is that baggage? Material possessions that we accumulate every day, our fears, our delusions, our illusions, and so on. I look around my house at things that I feel are sacred to me. My poetry books, my art, my collages. When I think these things will flounder when I die. Will they end up in a landfill? I have no control over any of it, not even the outcomes of my own life. I can’t take anything with me when I die. So can I and should I seek comfort in things? We are so caught up with living that we rarely consider our deaths.

Take a look at my poem on Hotel and share your thoughts. It’s an interesting topic.

It’s All about Death, Really By Barbara Leonhard