“THE OBJECT” Karlyle Tomms (12/12/15)

Gathering dust, the heirloom was unaware of the emotional baggage
Cast upon it by my grieving heart.
It could not see, nor understand the bond that causes grief to cling
To an object that only fades with time.
Packed in a box, unpacked at Christmas,
The object, which my grandma gave to me
Felt nothing when grieving tears fell upon it.
Yet each year I brought it forth,
And considered it precious.

With my tender care, it had never fallen to break,
But was lost in my upheaval and transition,
The wrong box carted off to charity.
It has likely ended up in a flea market somewhere.

Perhaps someone who never knew the story may feel something—
Some unspoken loving magic that draws her to it.
Perhaps she will add it to her own Christmas bounty,
And also cherish it year after year.
Perhaps a similar emotional spell will be cast over other lives.

In some unforeseen future, some fumbling hand
Will touch the object one last time
Before it falls to shatter against a hard and uncaring floor.
It will be swept away with other debris,
And tossed into the trash.
If I am gone when that day comes,
There will be no one to remember
How much she comforted
And cherished me.