Persisting
They didn’t want her to find
any treasure.
When her eyes went out, she went
feelingly,
learning with hands’ crawl the touch
of ore.
But when her hands were taken,
such methods worked no more,
her mouth could not walk, her tongue despaired of carrying
even the smallest gems.
In the sway of that dismemberment,
something gave way
to wings, the black beads of
blinkless eyes,
and though, this was wondrous
in itself, it took her some time not to miss the stones
she’d so long pocketed,
song still foreign to her,
words no longer familiar.
****************
Poem of sorts for April, 2017, open link prompt on Real Toads, hosted by Marian,
Pic is mine, pencil on paper, all rights reserved for poem/pic, as always.
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