welcome to my world. you may recognize yourself. don't panic -- this is just between you and me.

My Mother’s Mantilla

 

Rumpled, pale

The mantilla rests

Untouched in its flowered hatbox -

Flowered and round with a ribbon

Tied in a bow -

Traces of a graceful age

 

Within

Delicate lace to shield a delicate face,

To shelter delicate shoulders,

To screen once delicate love.

Now the face, worn

The shoulders, humbled

The love, withered.

 

Pulling it from its billowing tissue

Spreading it wide

The young bride says yes

I wear the mantilla of my mother

To honor her,

To be as she was

 

Now

She gathers my golden hair to the nape of my neck

She lays the lace gently over my head

She puts her hands around my waist

She kisses my eyelids

And sends me on my journey