Everyone owns at least one piece of that tiny real estate

That we irreverently refer to as our junk drawer

Once in a while, when in a bind, we slide it open in last resort,

Just in case it would contain a dormant treasure of some sort.


It is packed with mind-boggling oddities that crept in over time:

Two rubber bands, a few band-aids, birthday candles, a roll of dimes,

A widowed bolt, some scotch tape… You get the idea, for sure you can relate.


It got me thinking.


Is my heart also fitted with a hidden compartment,

Where I stash away unwanted memories of a painful content

As well as the full spectrum of my emotional junk?

By now, it would have grown to be the size of a trunk.


Is it secured with a padlock that traps these unpleasant emotions,

Issuing them a life sentence and condemning them to oblivion?


What about past hurts and unprocessed traumas?

Am I harboring them unaware, slowly adding to the mix?

Sadly, it appears that my junk cannot get an easy fix.


It is of the type that needs to be set free.

Its undigested elements are weighing on me heavily.

Dear God, where do I start?

I am painfully aware that I do need some urgent care.


“Due to possible contamination, lift the lid with caution.

Open the windows of your heart to create a healthy draft.

Trapped emotions are purulent and can emit quite a stink;

Grab a gas mask; put on some gloves, and get ready for a good scrub.

Some of your wounds are still bleeding and make you go weak at the knees.”


This is when I thankfully remembered the few band-aids in my junk drawer….


Anyas Spencer, Medford, Oregon, January 8, 2015

Thu, 01/08/2015