the beginning of the end

stack of boxes
unloaded
dispersed
in the last place
you may call home
on earth
a home they call nursing
makes me think of
the beginning
of babies
and bosoms
of swaddling
and of holding
but for you
it is about breaking down
about brittle bones
about people
not coming around
about long silences
and a lot of sitting

A whole life lived
and now reduced
boiled down
to this small room
this room
where
as you move in
you must realize
is the beginning
of the end

And maybe,
you are OK with that
because the end, really,
is only
the beginning

~C

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