Her Beads of Mercy
Give unto them beauty for ashes, the
oil of joy for mourning.
Isaiah 61:3
Somewhere her will pries open charity;
Open doors, lifts eaves, like an unseen helper endures
A creature-hood of china and fine drapes.
Somehow in a lifetime gathered the costly gems and stones
Adorn her chest as she rubs a bead in palm,
Each one an eye that renders indistinct his memory.
More precious now the cut and clarity of what recedes
With age, of what rivals the brilliance of a diamond
Could still cast the right light, the right color
Against a grief too precious to wear.