Possesions.............. Poem by John Tansey

The possesion,
a ring, a gift
the momentary obsession
for something
to lift us out of depression,

Each day,
puchasing something new,
tearing its shiny wrapping,
we buy back our lives
and for that moment,
like opening a bay window
we are renewed.

Redeemed with credit,
this momentary bliss of baubles
is fleeting,
like fashion
disgusing us from the grave
with new clothes,
or the amulet of newness,
right before the discarded paper packaging.

Without possesions,
or obsessive material diversions
we buy to persuade ourselves
we are precious
like the gold hung from our necks,

We become naked
like undessed mannequins
in a store window,

Left with the realization
of a skeleton,
its sole possesion,
a cairn of stone,
and that death is no more
but the settlement of debts
paid in flesh and bone.