The Rest of You

It was the morning after the mourning

but we were still stumbling over our suitcases, shy to unpack

 in a room already crowded

with furniture.

Some mornings, you're still mourning.

I think the secret is to take gentle steps, move soft,

leave things where they are.

Instead of our cases, let's unpack 

each other.  Open a window long left shut; still, stiffly it opens

just with the right amount of force.

There is hope here.

There is a light shining up from a lamp on the street 

below; it glows

just enough to keep us from closing our eyes.

Leave your suitcase where you left it;

eventually

we'll unpack drawer by drawer, careful to not stub our toes. 

 For toes are where the nerves end, 

and where the nerves end,

the rest of you

begins.

.