we walk in an infinite world --
at any moment
a thousand
golden ghosts
swirl
around us....
•
summers ago,
in my father's home,
sifting through the legacies
of my ancestors....
making off with sepia portraits
long coveted
long denied....
tossing away sticky
space-age plastics
from the fifties....
marveling at the aesthetics
of a curious,
yellow-and-white
art-deco
cocktail shaker....
the longings
and the dreams
of my ancestors
swept over me --
awash this incapable form....
•
oh grandmothers....
mother....
what would you have me do?
grandfathers,
father,
old ones....
what is it you want from
my wild and bounded life?
•
i drove away,
my u-haul packed with
viscous treasures....
simultaneously
relief and exhaustion
made themselves known....
tears and i poured
together
over the
state line....
at that moment,
i swear --
i felt the spirits of my grandmothers
fly to join me....
their forms
streamed off of my shoulders
like wings
you have done the sacred work
daughter....
all is well --
yes, horrific!
but all is well....
work....
love....
play....
this is your sacred waltz....
•
i am happy the owls own the night --
their quiet announcements shake me....
they are my secret call to order....
to inventory my dreams....
and requisition grace....
and remember
that i dance
with golden ghosts....
____________________
©2011
beth anne boardman
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