Boxes

Boxes piled high,
carefully sealed,
unlabeled
in fear
that just giving them names
will release
the beasts
within.

About this poem

We all stuff things. But things that are stuffed have a way of getting out. We can try to hold them in, but one way or another, sooner or later, they will show themselves.

This leaves us with choices – do we unpack the boxes ourselves, face our fears and loss and struggles, releasing them in relative safety. or simply wait for the eruption?

Tom