Unravelling

I used to imagine my life was a string
of accomplishments I kept in a box.
The papers and photographs, knots,
leading my someday children to and fro
through my life in words and images.
Now I see I am a mess of ropes,
each one entangled in a hopeless ball
with the others, waiting for me
to come and tease them all apart
when i grow too old or weary to braid
more.