boxes

boxes
are easy
to carry stuff in,
to pack things away
for later,
not now,
to hold memories
of things
that hold hands,
not stand alone,
to name
what cannot be named,
except when you die,
when you are laid to rest
in the bosom of the earth,
where all boxes
must crumble one day,
for they are here
only to be carried awhile,
not to stay.