Sifting through the detritus of his life
how much stuff there can be in a one bedroom
we curse and fume and call Got Junk
he was a hoarder there’s no doubt
his drug of choice cds and dvds

His music eclectic, beyond imagination
Pavarotti to Miles, Elvis to Etta,
hundreds, thousands; some unopened
stacks and towers; boxes and cases,
we want to hurl them down the chute
or give them all away

In our exasperation, it hit us hard
these were his children, his lovers,
his solace, his peace
in a life that never worked right,
where he never quite fit

Still we indulge him
that same willful child
carting crates of his beloved treasures
for him to peruse in the convalescent home
to sift through and caress
and jam in his one little room

And we hold back tears when he tells us
we gave him his life back

Editor’s Note: This poem is one of a few published to Refuat Hanefesh by Joanne touching on the life of her brother and his mental illness. Please see Joanne’s author page for further moving pieces and check back for the continued publishing of Joanne’s work.

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Joanne Jagoda

After retiring in 2009, one inspiring writing workshop launched Joanne Jagoda of Oakland, California on an unexpected writing trajectory. Her short stories, poetry and nonfiction appear on-line and in print anthologies including A Poet’s Siddur, Pure Slush, Better After 50. and Persimmon Tree Magazine. In 2015, her poem, “Mr. Avocado Man” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Joanne continues taking a variety of Bay Area writing classes, enjoys Zumba, traveling and spoiling her seven grandchildren, who call her “Savta.”

Latest posts by Joanne Jagoda (see all)

• The Visit - April 15, 2018
• Two Sisters Clearing The One Bedroom - February 25, 2018
• Your World - January 28, 2018