Gifts for Felicja, in Delta
Dear one, I may not see you on Hanukkah.
We came to the hospice center last night.
Your Grandpa Jacek can’t breathe right
so I’m putting gifts in this box he wants
mailed right away, you know how he is:
the blue topaz and tortoise shell comb
I used to wear, with the handmade Polish
amber necklace from a village, Kazimierz,
remember, it takes forty thousand years
for amber to form in that cold north sea.
Treasure these feminine things, myszka,
my little mouse. Hide them, keep them
safe, they come from the old ones, your
great grandmothers. You may need them
to escape soldiers, to cross a great water,
to save yourself, your sons or daughters.
And I want you to have the lacquer Chinese
paint set from our house, where you dipped
the fine threaded bamboo brush in water,
drawing us, trees, wolves, things that came
and went in your mind, while we drew and
discarded Mah Jongg tiles, our good times.
We have loved you since you were born,
your blue grey eyes, small straight shoulders,
your perfect fingers, shaped like clay. The
first songs on the piano we heard you play.
Tonight, watching the moon edge over
an infinite blue black mesa here, slowly
becoming itself, I know we are part of
all things that change and pass away.
Oh Felicja! Wild and fierce is this life,
nothing is permanent, but nothing
is ever truly lost. Happy Hanukkah.
I hope to see you soon. Find a cup
-2- Gifts for Felicia, in Delta
to dip the brush in gently, like a spoon.
Your loving grandma, Angelika.
Sandra Dorr (from This Body of Light, forthcoming, Hope West Press)
