Unfinished...

I moved into my apartment 
A year and a half ago,
And there are still boxes unpacked. 
They are the charged boxes - 
The detritus and bric-a-brac
Of a lifetime of memories and sins. 
I subconsciously avoid them,
Preferring the limbo,
Navigating the apartment's maze
With the deftness of a ninja. 

One of the boxes 
Contains notes, letters, and cards
From my parents. 
I fear this box the most,
Fear what will happen
If I were to open it
And see...

...My father's very European letters,
The ones I forged
On the VA checks
When he was in the hospital
And we needed to deposit his pension...
...The notes that would refer to me
As Princess
And ask me 
To watch after my mother and sister...

...My mother's large, flamboyant scrawl
That I have never seen duplicated,
Each letter so vast
The paper would curl beneath the
Weight of her words...
...The cards that would refer to me
As Angel Face,
And tell me I was brilliant, and beautiful,
And that I could be anything
I put my mind to...

"The pen is mightier than the sword"
Would be my family's coat of arms. 
Words and more words,
Ringing me about
Like the walls of Jericho,
Protecting, encouraging, exhorting  -

But even the walls of Jericho
Were laid low
By the hand of God. 

The notes stopped coming
From them both
Far too soon!

How do I dare touch a box
As loaded and charged as this?...
A box filled with everything
That is now lost?
Surely I will be brought to my knees
If I face a decade of griefs 
I've been desperately eluding!

O My Lord God,
Still me, still me!
I feel like I will ignite,
Will open my mouth to scream
And never stop. 
Will this grief ever leave me?
Can You take it from me
Without me facing it,
Or is that the whole point?
Must I be purified like gold in a furnace?
Must I be expunged of the guilt and grief, 
In order to become stronger,
More resilient, more pure?
Will facing the demons
Finally exorcise them?

Hold on to me
As I tread slowly down
The path You lead me. 
I do not understand my life,
Nonetheless...
I trust You with it...