I found it today
I was not looking, I looked at it
The box that started it all
An avalanche, and me, on the mountainside
I looked at it, not too large
Not large enough for such terror
The contents, just books, bills and Christmas cards
I looked at the box and remembered
I was forced to dig up what was buried under
Cold, packed snow, the cold packed days that nearly
Suffocated me
I looked at the box, and revisited the contents
Just books and Christmas cards now
The bills, gone, like he is gone, a part of the purging
The ongoing purging, of what one might call
My life