Maturing

I have realized that “maturity” is a measure by which we perceive our capacity to hold & carry all the “things” of life.
It is not my experience that we leave or put down many “things” in this life. You will take almost everything with you as you go and this is the means by which life becomes heavy, but also rich.
And as for the things we can bring ourselves to put down, leave behind for our own survival; well these things still leave odd, misshapen cavities in the crooks of your arm. They were so heavy, for obviously you had to put it down, that there is an impression embedded deep in your flesh, and so in a way we will still carry it.

Nothing goes away, we just grow day after day, and so each “thing” is slowly minimized.
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A poem about my expanding capacity to carry my heaviness:

Self Harm

So we pack it in,
more obliteration.
A tear-down,
break-down to
package, compress, and distill.

Take something too
heavy to handle (myself),
& smash it into
digestible bits.

Give it all away;
may nothing pertaining
be mistaken
for precious.

Sweep what's left
into the collective
unconscious
dust bin

& leave it be.