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Trunk in the Attic
The trunk in my attic I keep full of old memories;
Some good, some bad,
All a part of my life.
All defining the parameters of the person I call me.
The power of these memories also sometimes imprison my soul.
A part of me wants release, yet another part wishes to grasp.
The trunk in my attic is no longer locked, I am rummaging through its contents.
Some clean, some dirty,
All a part of my life.
Bringing me to an understanding of who I am at this moment.
Opening the lid that I had kept padlocked for decades upon decades.
This trunk brings me to a place of contemplation of the hidden parts of my life.
Now open is the trunk in my attic allowing complete visibility of all that is within.
Some truth, some lies,
All a part of my life.
I free myself from this closeted existence and shout to the heavens for wholeness.
The power of recognition of the hidden things, as the lies come to the light of day.
With the strength of a thousand, the truth allows the peace of reality to enter my soul.
The trunk in my attic contains all of my memories dwelling in my soul.
Some of joy, some of fear,
All a part of my life.
Now in openness I can relive the joys as they were locked away with the fears.
Stifled by the lies and hidden in the depths intertwined with the junk in the trunk.
With the power of simple observation, freedom from the past is brought forth.
24Mch08
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