A pretty, cunning ring he gave me, long ago

Of silver, and of bone, a calm warm living white

Curiously carved, long gently curving slender shape

That sideways held soft-smiling female face within

Curved chin would rest on left side of my finger

Curved forehead on the right, strange there! yet sweet, serene

Wore it that way always, her face turned inward, facing me

Always toward me, smiling there to softly speed the day

Silver solder broke, in time, on one side of the ring

No drama rush, of course it would be fixed . . . of course! sometime

Was put aside, then vicious death — dark days became the norm

A smiling ring unthought of, unthinkable, absurd.

Came across the ring again one recent summer day

And thought perhaps it could be worn? despite the open spot?

Pleasing just to see once more that small face smiling there —

Try to do more normal things! whatever normal is

Or used to be — went dancing in the lakeside park

A place we often used to go — this August ritual

Summer celebration, dancing sunset lantern walk

Round small blue lake, with marching band, stilt walkers too

Band leader urging all to dance as sun goes slowly down

And . . . I do want to, and want to just stay still, and want

Different things — in time the music, water fragrance, lights

Persuade my deadened flesh to move, at first a little, then a lot

Wild legs, wild arms thrust outward as rhythmic music throbs

Until, in sun's last ruddy rays the weakened ring flew off

Gone, lost somewhere, in dim-lit sun-crisped grass! shock/grief

then gratitude, I found it . . . and almost right away

Could so easily have lost it there and then — though really

Did not find it, for it was fully broken now

White face and silver ring no longer joined, not one

Two separate things, the face intact, the partial, severed ring

Knelt down in pale dried grass, strangely swiftly found both parts

And then . . . found someone who will solder silver, who can fix

And cried inside the silversmith's dark shop, but didn't care

They charge a lot but somehow also couldn't care

Dangerous, should care, but it feels . . .meant, to have it back

Make it whole again — different, wounded wholeness

Still a real ring, strong, that can be worn out in the world

While world remains (if world remains), and music, sun, and time.