Four

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. ~ Anton Chekhov

April is National Poetry Month, so it seemed fitting…

When God made a woman
He portioned Adam's rib
But when He made a mother
He formed her from shattered stone
And thread

In the forge of the womb
He wove together shards of sand;
Splinters bound by flame
He braided fiber and filament 
Into glass wool

Designed her to absorb both the
Silence of ice and anguish of fire
Designed her to be tenacious yet pliable 
Capable of wounding with a thousand slivers, but
Ordained to shield.
 
When God made a woman
He portioned Adam's rib
But when He made a mother
He formed her from melody
And song
 
He composed in her a counterpoint 
Rising and falling
Pushing and pulling in both
Harmony 
And dissonance
 
In the infinite pool of the heart
He wrung out tears of
Pain and joy, 
And stitched them to her cheeks
Like diamonds