Suitcases

Packing suitcases is never a simple thing

And if there’s one certainty, it’s that they’re never done the same

There are still a few days left, but tonight, , it just won’t end

So I decided to pack mine

Maybe I feel I’ve done my time here

Maybe I just wanted to get a weight off my mind

But this time they were easier suitcases to make

Done with lightness, done with relief

Every suitcase tells its own story

Between shirts and dreams, it carries our beginnings and goodbyes

You roll them closed with hope or with anger

But they’re never easy to unpack

There are heavy suitcases, not because of the kilos

But because of the weight their meaning holds

Others are packed with a smile, lightly,

Smelling like vacation, like a dream about to begin

But then they stop you at check-in

Because that weight you’ve gone over

Isn’t on your shoulders, in your head, or in your stomach

It’s in all those shirts and jeans you’ll never wear

Every suitcase tells its own story

Between shirts and dreams, it carries our beginnings and goodbyes

You roll them closed with hope or with anger

But they’re never easy to unpack

There are suitcases you pack in a hurry

Arrolling everything, throwing it inside, maybe jumping on top to close them

Those are made by someone who knows the holiday is ending

And they’re about to go back home,

But someone will be there to unpack that pressure-cooker bomb

I’ve seen people turn a suitcase into a home

Like a turtle,

Personally, I don’t envy them, loaded like mules

In mine I only pack hope

Every suitcase tells its own story

Between shirts and dreams, it carries our beginnings and goodbyes

You roll them closed with hope or with anger

But they’re never easy to unpack

Every suitcase has a story of its own

Of passions, dreams, fears, anger, and desire

And those are exactly the ones

That are never easy to unpack