Do you call it an estate sale
when you’ve left the life you’ve lived
for decade after decade, forever?
When you no longer need the baggage,
life has been rewritten, the old script,
the old props don’t fit, never will
god willing.
What do you do with the trash
from a life in the rubbish heap?
Does it have any use?
Only in the telling, the recalling,
the sharing to let others know
there’s hope for a future for them
with lots of defects of character,
of resentments, of fear left over
to be recycled into stories
for more to come to recovery.