Showing posts from November, 2020

Cut Rings

Inherited from Mom: My laugh Sense of humor Humanity 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.


 “It seems, as one becomes older That the past has another pattern And ceases to be a mere sequence,” So it seems tumbling through time To Grendel’s lair, where the deep fear Of patternmakers keeps him home days Until chaos intrudes on gold-gathering A night battle, brutality, lost arms And a mother who would have the last word Home is home and who belongs where I would fight to the end for you, fight to know Where you are, to find you here I go back through ghost stories To Odysseus in the underworld Searching in the dark of memory For Mother’s love become spirit So strong he saw her, heard her, followed her word Went home like a ghost as if for the first time Heartache heartbreak, broken heart  You are the star of her universe She would have you burn bright. I go back again to the first story A Mother’s blessing, a deep dive, a search for eternity Go back, you fool, find it where you began Dig deep in the sand, unearth the pattern of time  This dazzling eternal moment is your to find