A shelf swept,
In the cabinet torn from the wall
In a fit of summer divestment,
I found a broken necklace,
A cross tarnished,
Halfnaked string too short for wear~
Repreived from the smallest loss, and representation,
and afraid~
my beads of self were slipping away with the donation boxes .
Before sunrise Ursula would come,
Mumbling to her selves,
fingering towel and bag, a glance of apology
To bathe in a gas station restroom.
Freedom wore a damp braid and spotless blouse~
From England was a long way,
to sleep under the bridge.
Who knew?
Small grants from the nether,
She sailed in once for coffee,
A new bike and trailer,
A mansion for her taste, wings for her sensibilities.
A ride back to human,
One smile.
Ten days and morning was stolen,
Hope was a loosed balloon.
Hiding raisin eyes from the afternoon sun
A browned hand slid the silver cross onto my counter,
and left in a mumble,
Turning south for a warmer winter.
Ursula walked.
I retied the sting,
Laced the beads around a bottle on the shelf
Her cross
Above the polished stones
beachglass and anniversaries
and raised my eyes to the mirror.
I have not seen her since.
~*~
A contest entry
- Friendship Rocks My World by grammabuff.
800 points, ended July 26, 9 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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The poem is full of descriptive imagery so we see and hear with the poet her protagonist's struggle, small triumphs and resignations in the daily search for dignity in life.
So many wander silent, alone and unnoticed or simply ignored. Each one is a person with a story, though, and it is good to see one told with humanity recognizing humanity.
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"each one has a story"
A difficult part of the journey, so see each one as individual, a created, and much beloved child of God. A realization to temper lofty earthbound aspirations, leading one reach down a hand to help up another.
Thank you for so generous a review , Ben. The choicest of blessings to you and yours!
Carol
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Powerful story well told. I love some of your images. I was a bit confused in the first stanza - does this take place after the rest of the story? Seems like it should but, maybe I am missing something. Thanks for entering.
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Thank you
Yes, the finding of the cross spurred the memories. Its true, and the best way to memorialize a lost woman. Thank you for the contest, and for considering my poem! -
woops
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