A poem from a firend in California

[eridani]

Bellwether

She broke it into tiny pieces
and fed me until my cries were quieted,
never showing her own distress,
though I’d heard her hunger escaping
in small cries of passion in the night.
You are my wife, she’d said, and will be
always, and then another bite
of precincts uncounted, absentee
ballots, until sleep came for us at last.

Teacher, mother bird, my wife,
once the votes were counted, held
my sorrow, her own in abeyance, fed
small bits of hope called lawsuits and bellwether,
protests and idea whose time has come.
She the believer, pulling me gently along
when my faith in fellowman falters,
grief – as ever – my open-mouthed position.
Reminding me of the pastor’s joyful words,
their power as she smiled upon us, wife
and wife. Forever.

[bluedawg12]

1. That's beautiful.

Thank you for posting. :grouphug:
K&R