Passing
A poem by Lisa Delan

Passing

There will come a night our eyes don’t close—a morning they will not open. So it is that we depart. It is never too soon to pack that which you will need for the journey. You may find it useful to make a list, so as not to overlook essentials. Prone to misplacing things, my secrets are scrawled on the inside of my left forearm in fine point purple sharpie—

~morning beans in the grinder
~pictures my mother saved
~the transcript of my first love
~all the black piano keys
~sonograms of my children
~a Pez dispenser
~an SSRI and an anxiolytic
~fairy lights
~Margaret Atwood’s Wilderness Tips
~ incense sticks
~apologies I neither gave nor got
~a magic 8 ball
~season three of Friends
~the memory of my chosen family
~Blue on vinyl
~my parents’ forwarding address
~the shadows I cast on the sidewalk

I stopped there when I ran out of room on my arm. Your list can be as long or short as you like—but best not to prevaricate, as travel plans can change on a dime. Stack your secrets in a steamer, triple twine the trunk, and tie tightly. Now you are done! You may wonder what you will you find when the time comes to sever the knots. This I cannot tell, my friend—a packing list is faith.

About the Author:

Lisa Delan’s poetry has been featured in a broad range of literary publications, and she has received a Pushcart Prize nomination. Her poems have been set to music by several prominent composers, and premiered at Festival Napa Valley in California. When she is not writing, you can find the soprano, and international performer who records for the Pentatone label, singing songs on texts by some of her favorite poets.

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