Proving Montaigne Wrong…

November 4, 2005

Mood: poetic
Song: "Auld Lange Syne"

For Miriam on her 26th Birthday
Tuesday’s Children
A poem in terza rima

In Southern California, halcyon days
Were swept away before November gusts
And she emerged, fresh soul with ancient gaze.

Rough diamond, all her brightness yet untried,
Her middle name revealed the heart within:
The “Grace” to cast all bitterness aside.

She grew, fair child who learned to face the wind
And gained compassion through the steeper path
By loving those whose youth would never end.

A firstborn girl, in books she found her ease
And trained to hear the music of the spheres
With hours perfecting notes on ivory keys

At sixteen years she followed study’s muse
But questioned views her parents had endorsed
And sought the truth she’d need to freely choose.

Another girl first struggled to draw breath
Mere months after the other child appeared
But life for her would take a separate path.

In deepest summer haze she ventured forth
The only child of a gambling man
She wandered long before she found true north.

That heart was youthful, even as her name;
Her eyes saw farthest when they turned within
A mind where wisdom early staked a claim.

She grew, strong child who weathered desert blaze
And scorned compassion when it was unjust.
Her time was measured out in ordered ways.

This firstborn girl was steeped in history;
In antique texts she sought the only One
With power to transmute pain to bright glory.

For eighteen years the earth traversed its course
And these twin souls remained in ignorance
That they’d become each other’s sharpening force.

Yet like will evermore call out to like
And bonds of iron finally were forged
To make one heart that beat in bodies twain.

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