Two dolls in rags and tatters, one missing an arm and a leg, the other blind in one eye-- I grabbed them form her arms, “No,” I said “they cannot come.” Each tight luggage I had packed Only for the barest need: No room for sentiment or memory To clutter with loose ends My stern resolve. I reasoned, Even a child must learn She cannot take What must left behind. And so the beat turned seaward, A smart wind blowing dry The stealthy tears I could not wipe. Then I saw—rags, tatters and all— There among the neat trim packs The dolls I ruled to leave behind. Her silence should have warned me She knew her burdens As I knew mine Her clean white years unlived— And paid my price. She battened on a truth She knew I too must own: When what’s at stake Is loyalty or love, Hers are the true rights. Her own faiths she must keep, not I.

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