Dusty Boxes
Unopened Under the dust Several van line stickers Boxes packed But unopened Full of text books Just sitting For years In how many basements? Through all the moves Unopened Fanning the pages of each book Preparing for recycle Nothing between the pages But each page filled Filled with bewildering information Equations – endless equations Diagrams and graphs None of it intelligible The name on each book is mine But the contents No longer mine Can that knowledge be retrieved? Of course One book at a time One page at a time Hours of lectures per chapter Many more hours Homework Spread over five years I could once again own What’s in those dusty boxes Now opened But why revisit All that led to now? That which nourished My mind and spirit Prepared me for work Fed and clothed my family Led to now And most importantly The fruits of that labor Many years ago Remain a part of who I am today© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
In a dim light... 
July 17, 2012 at 5:13 pm |
You know you’re hitting the right chord when you can write what others feel. I agree that some things we learn seem less permanent than other things. But the less permanent served its purpose and perhaps we couldn’t have gotten to where we are without it.
July 18, 2012 at 8:01 am |
Thanks, Thomas. I was surprised by the emotional murmurs as I thumbed through the books. And again as I took them one-by-one and dropped them through the slot on the recycle bin. My university wants to publish the reflection in a departmental letter. It seemed to speak to them as well.
July 18, 2012 at 7:38 pm |
Nice flow of thoughts about books and boxes..l enjoyed reading the poem..Regards.Jalal Michael