Friday, December 30, 2016

Mikaela Castledine #364 Heirloom

I had religion once
I was given it as a child
it belonged to my mother
and she herself had carried it
all smoke dark teakwood
pigmented in indigo and green
through the long dislocation
of her own childhood
and I knew I should look after it
but beyond
a fitful spit and sleeve rub polish
to raise its shine
in which to look and see my face 
reflected gold and gessoed red
it mostly baubled there
in dusty hush
with the stilling of its quiet chime

I had religion once
but then I lost it
and looking for it
among the weary unearthing
of her artefacts
searching for treasured fossils
and the miniatures of ancestry
found only traces
of the lacquered veneer
like the shedding of
an old tempera shellcrack
I wonder if she took it
once again upon her journey
held fisted fast
upon her breast into the ground

Crucifix, oil on wood, Valerie McDonald 1990's

1 comment:

  1. This is a fabulous poem. The rhythm is so appropriate. I alos like the image.


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