Some days I can’t see my baggage. Some days I’m the queen of Samsonite. ~ Maureen G

I come bearing baggage.
The idea a cookie fixes scraped elbows,
that one bite won’t hurt,
that somehow cleaning my plate
will magically feed starving children
halfway around the world.
That the way to show I love
is to eat the food they make,
as much as they want to feed me,
as many times as they do.
I come bearing baggage
but it coms with love handles
and the lies I’ve been told,
and those I’ve told myself,
have no hold on the truth.
And it’s freeing to travel light,
freed from the baggage
that weighs me down
or that raises my weight.