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I used to collect lots of things:
bottles,
books,
toys,
caps,
yogurt lids (dozens),
water jug spigots (hundreds),
radio-show recordings,
lingerie catalogs,
Halloween masks,
birthday cards,
fingernails (for a few months),
workout sweat (one summer),
a can of chains,
a drawer of blades.
Photos of my sickness
(these muscles, those ribs).
Measures of my time
(pounds lifted, percent lean mass):
There was always a
reason (
lids fly like
frisbees, bottles whistle,
I can breathe through
a spigot,
fingernails shk-a-shk
in a can, sweat is
oily tea-colored inside
a glass bottle
) always a reason
to hold on.
But I never convinced myself
with things:
that I matter,
I'm content,
want to smile,
today was complete, well-spent...
weightless things, the opposite
Of metal plates
or plastic disks or
salty drips.
So I still collect:
In-breaths,
long hugs,
quiet
moments
where trees
shake
not at all like sickness.
I carry them in
my heart.
They aren't heavy
I really connect with the message of this poem because I am someone who tries to collect memories from everything that I do. Through pictures, sounds, and objects, I try to take pieces of the world back home with me so I never forget about the moments that I experienced in the world around me. I kind of forget things easily, so collecting things helps me immortalize my adventures in my mind. I think that while these collections can help me hold on to the physical reminders, my more ingrained memories are driven by an emotional reminiscence that each instance is able to bring. I have noticed that more people are choosing to live minimalistic lives, throwing away and leaving behind things that do not hold immediate value to them, but I cannot seem to let go of the things that I have kept. While I have started to live in the moment, taking in the atmosphere that surrounds me, I feel that even though there is no physical weight, the mental and spiritual feelings have a more intense influence on the way that I remember and collect things. Similar to the speaker, I have begun to seek more of the human connection and capture the world through my senses, not through physical objects that do not seem to fulfill my satisfactions with what I am able to grapple onto.
ReplyDeleteTo me, The can of chains in the collage kind of replicates someone’s brain, with memories being scattered but able to be connected into one long chain of life. Similar to the can, there are some memories and objects that I have unconsciously thrown into a corner of my room and mind, leaving them to sort through later when I am able to organize my thoughts in the future.