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Poem

which mess do I dive into first?
When I left my schools this year I took it all.
It was easier to bring home to sort.
This was a daunting, horrible energy-stealing task.

I put it off for over a month.
Leaving the boxes out on my porch.
Messing it up, an embarrassment to others.
To me, something I could not yet face.

To avoid this mess, I created another mess
In my art studio, where I was frantically painting
one canvas after another, in order to forget the porch.
And the job that was waiting.

then company decided to visit.
I knew I would be horrified if she saw the porch the way it was.
So I began to sort; most of this went into the trash.
There were twenty-two boxes which I burned

I have gone down from five messes to two messes.
Big messes; one in a bedroom, the other in an office.
The bedroom mess was stealing my energy.
Causing me to feel depressed.

Would I ever be able to face it?
I began facing it yesterday.
Sorted about eight boxes and three bags.
The more I sorted, the easier it became.

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