our Elder –

the widow's on Stage in the final phase of her maternity --

She warms under a hot Sun baked in earthen Colors

to discover her Children burned in blood and hustling

for Survival here blessed and uninformed -- in

winding streets gypsies tap their feet in rhythm

with her Measure -- who will

bear the load of her Wisdom now that she is dying?

Who sees her now as a girl? What manner

of guide leads her through these darkening Corridors?

Hers is a subtle-Shift leeward

and incensed; these

days that resound

in Silence make for longing and Receipt -- Aged bones

strike postures of inclined

longevity and Surmise --

the breaking of her waters has led to war and

surrender, to love replete and daring, to the

generations

of inscape and intent -- daughters boasting

veins of iron surge through

her hair through her rib-cage through her

precipitated Woe to arrive as subtle Spirits

caressing

husbands in the Night -- sons of

strong Sinew

and ample height come to her to pay respects; the

towns and valleys echo with

her Song; Ministrations of mere being

suffice to

Say what needs Saying -- her Smile

the long avowal of her

legacy --