Moving Out

Staring at open space

Remarking how spacious it all feels

And how empty.

Remembering past promises

–Whispered implicitly from vaulted ceiling–

We begin to clean,

Scrubbing hard to remove ourselves

From this borrowed space.

Sweeping up crumbs and memories

Working hard to leave none behind

Wiping away smudged fingerprints

–As if past expectation personified reaches backward for us

Or at least looks back

To scrutinize us one last time–

Until all that is left are Windex streaks

On transparent panes.

Now checking the mail one last time

And finally setting down the keys.

Minds spurred forward

In subtle parallel

To another time

Now only faintly grasped

When keys and rings are surrendered together.

When the spaciousness of existence

Is matched by our untethered souls.

When that borrowed space is cleaned and readied one last time

While we are gracefully removed from it.

When that which should moulder

Moulders

And that which should live

Lives

And that which should move out

Moves on.