Portrait in Pen: One More Thing

One More Thing


She had one more thing to do.
Kneeling, before the shallow hand dug hole, freshly filled
Her hands going back and forth, as if casting a spell,
Smoothing the sand, feeling pebbles roll under her fingers,
Kneading the earth.

Thinking, conjuring up memories, old thoughts back to life,
After burying relics of her past…a token from a man,
A remembrance of an unfulfilled promise,
And something even more precious of herself.

Wondering, can you be a woman without being the object of love,
Without the promise of new life?
She had carried them, out of the wilderness.
They were part of her; she needed them, close to her.

Remembering, the terrible ordeal that brought her here-to the ocean,
Away from one world to the edge of another.
Physically exhausted, she endured dogged days
With quiet strength and angry will.

Trembling, at night her pain would crystallize around her,
In her mind’s eye she saw a landscape of jagged shapes,
A kaleidoscope of sharp edges, where the slightest movement would cut and rend!
If there are angels, they would have heard her soft moaning…




…Crying. Someone else did- a stranger.  A simple touch,
Yet something more, a gesture, that transformed her.
The touch was electric, raised the hair on her neck and arms
And filled her with a grace, a peace that engulfed her.

Rising sun on the horizon, reflecting in the tear on her cheek,
The promise of a new day. She used her fingers now,
Planted into mother earth, pushing, giving her strength to rise.
She had purpose, a gift to offer, a gesture…

She had one more thing to do.












Shawn   December 2018