Final Moments
Sitting with the final items that I've neither the desire to discard nor care to keep,
tiny decisions always abundantly sprout up in the wake of seemingly significant ones.
Once I had every intention of eventually fixing every broken toy in the top desk drawer
now the time has gone,
and the super-glue within its protective container has hardened, stiff and useless.
Sorting through the accumulated, no-longer necessary papers
each containing the memory of a moment,
I take them and place them on the ashes of what others have previously destroyed,
no match is needed; they are ignited by older embers
soon smoke rises, conjuring up images of burnt offerings to ancient deities
the ordinary and necessary become ritual in the final moments
which is then interrupted by the awareness that this is likely a contribution to air pollution.
Is it possible to do good without the unintended unwanted side-effect of doing at least a little harm?
I sweep the sand away.
I find a child's missing marble that we'd fruitlessly searched for weeks before
If I would want to shake the dust from my feet it would simply stick to my skin
I close the doors much more mindfully than the many times I've locked them before.
A metaphor from a few years before smiles compassionately back at me,
it stands there just outside the door in the form of a fruit-filled mango tree.
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