Page 8 - 2020 January Listen - 14-1 FINAL
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CHALICE
A chalice I craft One teardrop slides carefully
to hold my losses onto the aqueous surface.
a chalice It does not dissolve.
of warm wood It anchors like an Egyptian barge
whose carvings surround its globe in miniature, ready to ferry
as the arms of loved ones the dead to an afterlife.
once encircled me.
The tear sparkles like a ruby,
The foot I craft slender, its blush spreads like a fine Shedeh wine.
to float like a feather Its light enfolds me.
on the ledge where it stands. All embracing life and love.
I peer down into the bowl, I raise the chalice to my lips.
its round hollow planed smooth, I sip from its flame.
cupped like a holding hand.
The circle of liquid pooled there
Linda Ankrah-Dove writes about the natural world, climate col-
like a sunken mirror reflects lapse, the weird workings of society and the spiritual journey. Her
my grieving gaze. book, Borrowed Glint of Jade, is available through the author.
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