Boxes . . .

It seems as if memories are placed in little boxes, waiting to be opened, but when one opens several more open at once, with little people hidden in niches and crannies waiting to be delivered, to find peace and rest!

It arrived, it was a solemn occasion
people were hesitant, I did not know
why. I tried to look in the but I was too
small and it was too tall.

A narrow box – I was curious.
What was in it? I tried to lift the
lid, but my fingers could not reach,
with each attempt I became more
intent to see what this box
meant!

As time went by I became older
going back to see if perhaps I
could open it now. I visited the
box when life became violent and
I was seeking silence.

One day visiting a garden of
rest, there were similarities of
the box I had seen as a child.
Then I knew it was for those who
had ceased. That could be me!

And then I understood – the memories
stored in my mind must die before I
could live – finding peace and be free!