Two Sisters Clearing The One Bedroom

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.


Joanne Jagoda
Latest posts by Joanne Jagoda (see all)

Share your thoughts