The Samovar
-Rita A. Harvey, 1997
She came!
A pioneer, haunted by memories.
Mamma, how will I live without you?
A keening cry, like a wounded animal,
No one to hear, no one to answer.
Bonds stretched across oceans,
the past and the future, a tug of war.
She came!
A fiery furnace burning in her heart.
Stoked by a dogged desire to rid herself of dragons
Whose breath destroyed and claws maimed.
Clutching relics of the past, treasures,
links in a chain not easily broken.
Mama, I see you in the golden glow
of the samovar washed with endless tears.
The candle sticks to lighten the darkest hours
before dawn, where hope of the future
will surpass grief of the past.
She came!
Her wounds healed and she found solace
in that golden glow of the samovar.
The flickering candles in the candlestick,
a warmth spread like a wave
that engulfs me with sweet memories
of Mamma and all who remained,
in a place once called home.
Rita A. Harvey was a native of Boston, Massachusettes. Schooled by life’s experiences, a perennial student, whose musings reflect lessons learned in the art of living.
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DANIEL E. LEVENSON Editor in Chief |
At the root of faith is a question or many questions perhaps, about the nature of the universe and the meaning of life. Read More |
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