on sweeping

I sweep once a month. The dustpan is full of soil, dead fireflies, dried leaves, the wings of beetles, fruit stickers, crumpled paper, antennae, ashes from the incense i burn every third day, dead skin.

I look through old pictures once every ten days. The images are full of ideas, roses, webs, winter, reminders, eyes, mirrors, lines, comfort, curves, hands.

I hoard letters, journals and pictures. I find my practice of looking back propels me forward rather than holding me in place; I realize it doesn’t work this way for everyone, but I remember healing in sweeping and in being grateful for things come and gone.

Listen from about 5:30 on