There is a woman named Imogen Tack
who carries an oversized pack on her back.
"It is four feet long, and five feet wide,"
Imogen says with pride in her eyes.
Stumbling a bit, "And 7 feet high."
She tries to giggle, but it sounds like a sigh.
The pack is labeled for all to see:
ALL OF THE THINGS I USED TO BE.
It's a beautiful pack, but it weighs a ton.
Imogen can walk with it, but she surely can't run.
Her children climb up on it and make it their slide,
but it's not quite the same as a piggyback ride.
And once, the tiny one took a header inside.
She got lost for six months before she was spied.
And Imogen's spouse sleeps with the pack--
sometimes snuggled up, sometimes back to back.
There's no room in the bed for who she is now,
so Imogen dozes standing up like a cow.
Sometimes she wants to try something new,
but with a load like that, what could she do?
Today is different though. Today is unique!
A little bird from her heart has flown up near her cheek.
The birdie says, "Imogen, you could put that pack down."
And Imogen looks at the bird with a frown.
But all of a sudden, she lets go just like that.
The pack lands on the ground with a most mighty SPLAT.
Standing up straight, her bones all a-creak,
she opens her mouth, and she starts to speak.
Out comes a cry and a laugh and a quake.
She groans and she sings and her legs start to shake.
Then Imogen Tack just runs away,
and then she comes back, and she starts to play.
Her friends gather round, and her family does, too.
They say, "We knew your pack, but we don't know YOU!"
Imogen is sweating, so she wipes her brow,
and says, "Here's to discovering who I am now."
I do some creative writing here like what you just read. Bits and pieces of fact and fiction. One small way to keep myself creating. This week, I'm exploring the idea that we don't need stuff to prove what we've done.