Leaves of Ash

I think that time should have to tell
Its secrets and its woes.
A face’s grace will mostly lie
In traces of the blows
Struck gently on its youthful brow–
Minutely, one by one,
As pine shats whip the comely earth
To signal summer’s done.
But pine shats form a springy mat:
Inviting counterpane–
Cushion for a lover’s arch–
Accumulated gain.

A time ago — when I was young —
A towhead boy of five,
I ran and jumped, a sword it hung
So grandly by my side.

No dragon was too fierce for me,
No pirate made me run–
I slew them each, ah–could it be
Courage was simply fun?

A time ago — when I was young —
My head began to whirl,
My sword became a bitter tongue,
I learned I was a girl.

When I die I will fold inward quietly
A book shut gently
That has been savored.

In the last moments I may
Flip through the pages,
Skimming the high points,
Omitting the dull.

May I be shelved in the memory
Of loved ones.

Have I blessed you, oh little one,
Sweet sleeping child, my Alison?
Each night I pause to watch you sleep,
To touch your cheek and pray you keep
Your presence warm as morning sun.

The girl is mother of the woman,
Her birth as troubled as this one,
This one who guards your slumber deep.
Have I blessed you?

Your dreams upon the night winds run,
Your life with me will soon be done.
The day will come, my heart will leap
For joy or pain you sow or reap,
As woman born, new life begun.
Have I blessed you?

October 4, 1983