“Your problem..”
Croci said
“Is pockets,
Possessions, property,
And weight.”
He arrived unbidden,
And told us
He had been thinking
About flight, and how,
If he had pockets,
He could not fly
“The weight you see..”
He said
“..of property and possessions
Would weigh me down.
But you.
You humans have feet,
And pockets,
That you may carry things,
Carry weight on foot.
In pockets, in bags
Or in vehicles
With wheels.
You pick things up
And carry them away,
Accumulate them,
Things that aren’t your things.
You take them,
And accumulate them
In dwellings, villages, towns, cities.
We inhabit these places like you,
Unburdened.
By our need for flight.
We have tools like you.
We have language like you.
We have culture like you.
But it is light.
We have not things we own.
No property.
But things of value,
Tools, language, culture.
Light enough to carry
In flight.”
“Your problem..”
Croci said again
“Is pockets
Possessions, property,
And weight.”
“The weight
Of your things
Weighs you down,
Slows you down,
Fixes you and your mind
To one place,
To one point of view.
Your things own you.
The heat is coming.
It is creeping north.
It will slow you down.
It will mow you down.
Stuck,
You will be,
And cooked,
You will be,
By the things you own.
You are possessed
By your possessions.
You may flee with us.
Leave your things behind.
Become unburdened.
But first,
Empty your pockets,
And be free.”
For more Croci poems, click here.
Moving Space 