BY JAN HAAG
THE WOMAN WHO HAD NO NECKLACES
10-26-97
When you were a
child, O Devayani you untangled
many necklaces,
the metal from the
bead,
the string from the silver and gold.
When you grew to
be a woman with white hair
you met another woman
with a halo of
snow,
beautiful, shimmering as if jeweled.
It was as if glittering
stars rested in her hair,
as if sparkling gems
originated in her
eyes,
bright and willful,
sparkling with wit
and
wisdom,
yet she had men in her life:
a dead husband,
four
sons who did not always
treat her kindly.
Tangled in their
lives,
bound to their mother
by her beauty and her
vision,
by
her capabilities, her peace
and good cheer,
bound fast to her
heart
by the golden chain
of care,
perfection,
freedom
and delight,
they could find
no
lovers,
no wives, no angels
to match the beauty of the
woman
who told you, O Devayani, that as a child
she had no
necklaces
to untangle,
no beads to undo,
no silver chains
or gold.
Tangled round her heart strings,
tangled round the heart
strings
of her sons
were threads like steel,
difficult to
see,
impossible to pick apart
with a pin.
The woman of
bejeweled
presence had tangled
round her life
necklaces
impossible to undo.
The sons sought without hope
for the halo of
glittering filigree
that was the presence
of their
mother
melted in the crucible
of their own desires
into tin,
iron
and dross.
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
Choice
The End of the Affair
Father
I Am Innuit
Pursuing Her Father
Silence
The Woman Who Had No Necklaces
You
BY JAN HAAG