Cut Rings

Inherited from Mom:

My laugh

Sense of humor


Faith in the truth

Love for children

And cut rings--

Worn jewels snipped 

From the fingers of dead women

Handed to survivors

Saved and passed on

The gems chipped

And scuffed

The gold worn thin.

From whence? What ring givers

Did these women love

So deeply that

They wore their

Love to the grave?

And what do we do with it now?

Keep the pieces

Think of the love.

One I put back together

For my daughter:

My great-grandmother's engagement ring,

A white-gold pillow embedded

With diamonds

The jeweler tells me

Are in solid.

Would I slay the dragon

For being a gold hoarder

Rather than a ring giver?

It is not the gold

But the heart that

Demands wholeness.

These fragments tell me

My story begins in love

That assumes its place

In eternity.


  1. That last line...
    where dost we all goest to,
    my fair and just liege,
    but eternity?
    Im a NDEr.


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