How can we live without our lives? How will we know it’s us without our past? From The Grapes of Wrath
Prompt: The women packing up to leave their homes lament that they can take very little of their belongings with them to California. While the men are saying, “Leave it,” a little piece of the women is dying as they say goodbye to things they cherish. What “things” do you cherish? What “things” make up your life? A picture album, a piece of jewelry from a grandmother? An old Bible that belonged to your grandpa? You might start your poem with the first part of the line – “How can we live without our lilves?”