Treasured
Greeting cards and sentiments
handwritten and signed by those
once children, others now long
gone – letters still somehow un-
yellowed folded pieces of lined
school paper filled with love and
song lyrics passed in the hallway
by a sweaty palm of a lovely boy
eager to move from friend to some
things – these things – photographs
catalogued one winter when dread
assailed and thoughts of a looming
horizon motivated legacy leaving –
ahh the files, the files, manilla tabbed
and computer coded – filled with words
words, words, research, reflection, books
written and in halted progress a pilgrimage
of poems – trapped as data – some escaped
into volumes, stray pieces of printed paper,
handwritten scratches , oh the binders of
would be novels, that would not breathe,
and the paraphernalia, jewelry, a diamond
ring of promises made and broken another
of promises kept and delivered evermore,
my mother’s father’s tiny police shield
mounted on a gold disk that my mother
wore every day, I broke the chain,
forget the jewelry, lovely in their own
right but not keepsakes, not worth
reciting gemstones and turquoise,
the baby ring I wore in kindergarten
chewed through somehow, the
charm bracelet of childhood, jangling
with small tokens, a parakeet, a bicycle,
a typewriter, even then…
on and on the things, the things, when a super
storm hit – I packed a plastic container with all
considered vital.. it is in the bottom of a bedroom
closet – I’d leave it now if rains fell..books written
have been writ, poems published have been read,
jewlery mere stones, sentiments remembered,
no need to gaze upon handwritings, of children now
no longer adoring nor parents and grandparents whose
adoration remains without a card .. perhaps my grandmother’s
letter where she thanked me for being a wonderful granddaughter
a year or two after my father’s death, or my father’s letter, written
at twenty before heart surgery he did not expect to come through…
maybe, maybe not. What is truly a treasure, tangible and precious-
a notecard from my analyst and mentor an almost magical woman
who lived in a house with a white arbor lush with pink roses, a sitting
room of chintz and the kindest, wisest eyes ever to look upon me, perhaps,
her note card – saying that something about her feeling for me, perhaps not –
Most definitely the wedding bands upon my hands - if not worn they would certainly be in a
treasure box, the “wow” one on the occasion of our twenty-fifth when things were good shining
with my husband’s obvious usually completely unstated pride, the simple gold band, we
married in, yes these, yes these and the half cut glass bowl that sat on my grandmother’s
table – that crashed to the floor several years ago … half shattered… a large semi circle
remaining…still holding in the prism of rainbow reflections the love of a life-time
the rings, and the the broken bowl my legacy, my treasure. I think of tossing all else and it
brings me joy and clarity as does the peace that I need not do anything. I know if a storm were
to come or I simply heeded the call to go…
I would check my fingers for my rings, wrap the sharp edges of the shimmering remnants of
my grandmother's cut glass bowl in a piece of her worn soft rose quilted coverlet and walk out
through the door
unencumbered.
Pearl, I am loving your poems these days. I feel the same way, we spend so many years gathering, then more years letting go, till, at the end, we might pick up one thing to take with us. Smiles. My one regret is I didnt save all those years of letters that I would love to read now, to remember times I have forgotten. I also didnt journal and I know I should have. But oh, memory is still rich, and we have been truly blessed in our lives, you and I. Thanks for this glorious poem.
ReplyDeleteAww thank you Sherry.. I'm finding that I'm writing much more personally these days and I love the prompts on the site as I love all of you!
DeleteYour words in the poem are absolute treasures Pearl. So heartfelt words and the feeling dwelling in the word 'Unencumbered' is majestic.
ReplyDeleteOh Sumana majestic?! That's quite a word! Thank you so very much. I'm delighted you enjoyed!
DeleteSo true.. in the end only a few things truly matter and with them we can walk away, unencumbered. Well said!
ReplyDeleteIsn't it Rajani... I used to find that there was such power and sentimentality in the things .. now it seems that it would be so much easier to simply walk away unencumbered.. Thank you!
DeleteWow, Pearl, you have saved much in this very poem! I think my favorite is:
ReplyDelete"on and on the things, the things, when a super
storm hit – I packed a plastic container with all
considered vital.. it is in the bottom of a bedroom
closet – I’d leave it now if rains fell."
but I love all of it, and identify, especially with the savings of a career in education and the letters. I have downsized into three rooms, but still have the boxes of journals and letters! A mesmerizing poem.
Yes, Susan the papers and letters are most to difficult to let go .. this was a cleansing poem to write.. I'm delighted you enjoyed and so very much appreciate the "Wow" and "mesmerizing!" Thank you so very much.
DeleteAn exquisite heartfelt poem! I loved reading about all of your treasures. Such a lot of history. Such a lot of feeling!! So many wonderful things remembered!
ReplyDeleteOh Mary thank you! Exquisite?!! Wow... I am so thrilled that you enjoyed! I do love this group and always find the prompts bring me to personal depths.
DeleteLike Leonard Cohen's "the crack in everything" being how the light gets in.
ReplyDeleteAwww thank you! One of my favorite quotes!!!
ReplyDeleteThe broken small things can hold the most light. I'm surrounded by things, yet the value is in the joy and memories of them I can carry without boxes.
ReplyDeleteAhh yes Susie ! Thank you for your response!
Delete