I carry this luggage with me
- Norbert Góra
On the way from life
to death,
I carry this luggage
with me,
it gets heavier
with each passing year,
even short moments
want to put something in it.
I have children’s tears
packed there,
sleepless nights interrupted by
silent sobbing,
I have all the loves
that have gone away somewhere,
a bear and a bull market,
knowing that it was hard.
This luggage
is memories,
added to life for free,
sometimes they are like
outstretched wings,
sometimes they resemble
a ball at our feet.
I’m going ahead,
the next episode of my life,
I carry this luggage with me
to feel the magic of memories
again.
This poem comes to us from Poland.
The poet is Norbert Góra,
a former care assistant.
- Norbert Góra
On the way from life
to death,
I carry this luggage
with me,
it gets heavier
with each passing year,
even short moments
want to put something in it.
I have children’s tears
packed there,
sleepless nights interrupted by
silent sobbing,
I have all the loves
that have gone away somewhere,
a bear and a bull market,
knowing that it was hard.
This luggage
is memories,
added to life for free,
sometimes they are like
outstretched wings,
sometimes they resemble
a ball at our feet.
I’m going ahead,
the next episode of my life,
I carry this luggage with me
to feel the magic of memories
again.
This poem comes to us from Poland.
The poet is Norbert Góra,
a former care assistant.