In My Shrine Poem by Zyw Zywa

Between the tangible past
I weigh what I can
put away, I weigh
what I can

All this familiar stuff
tiny things, a large suitcase
for a big trip, with a copy
of my passport from that time

Before I open the boxes, I turn
the superscription towards me
Yes, I remember
It's still there, dust-free

Kitchen equipment and crockery
empty frames and some
parts, just in case
which has not yet occurred

I know the stories
that go with it and I feel
a time difference that does not exist
in my memory of those days