my friends they ask me
why i haven’t packed.
i say i do not know.
when really it is quite obvious,
i have difficulties
with letting go.
before i pack all my belongings
before i’m ready to leave the nest
i must pack up my soul
and carry in it all i love.
i need to take with me
all those times my mom
made me chocolate chip pancakes.
i have to
memorize the faces of every one
of my friends
until i can recall each of
their smiles and traits.
i want to fold my grandpa’s laughter
like a shirt that i can tuck away
in the drawer of my mind.
and i want to hold on
to those moments,
the one’s that make letting go
so hard.
i think that if i manage
to pack up
every bit of my heart,
then it won’t matter
what i put inside my luggage.
i will always be carrying
home.
no matter how far
we are apart.

if you wish to know
where my heart is
run to the mountains.
climb them,
until you reach
the top.
go where the clouds
brush against the
mountain’s peak.
where the terrestrial
reaches up to the eternal,
trying to meet.
there is where you’ll find
my very heart and soul,
for there is where
they are
much closer
to home.

i have nine days
before i leave
the only place
that i’ve called home.
nine days
to say goodbye
to the only people
that i’ve called family.
nine days
until i begin
the beautiful thing
i can call
my future.