Irene's Recollection

I have nine nieces from two sides of my family.
One is Irene, who was once very small, a hummingbird girl,
Busy in her birdhouse of a bedroom crazy full of books,
Toys, costumes and other bright tokens of girlhood.

Her colors were the greens, purples, turquoise, sun yellow,
Pink and ripe tomato red. We had the best times,
With scissors and paper and glitter tape and stickers,
Making gifts and writing scripts for our
Brown bag paper puppet theater productions
Where her crowd of stuffed animals were the stars: we dragged
Every one to our performances, filled every available cushion and
Inch of carpet space and they all had to admit,

It was as brilliant as a trip to Radio City Music Hall
At Christmastime, to be part of our shows (complete
With desktop gift shop).

One Christmas that coincided with Hanukah, we set aside
Our ambitious holiday labors and obligations
And her father put klezmer on the stereo
Because Irene loves to dance
And we spiraled and flew 'round & ‘round the living room carpet.

She called out: “This is how we’ll dance, at your wedding!”
My pain ran away with my tongue: “Oh, I’m not good at weddings!"
I said. "I’ve had two ... That was enough, for me ... ”

Her disappointment was a momentary shower, a shattered glass. Falling.

This was how I learned the place of the old is to know their place,
To lift up the feathers of the hopeful young -- never, ever to deaden
Or drag down, burden with bogus war stories -- or unload
The smoldering, defunct, battle-worn baggage.
The failing, wounded elders must get over themselves,
Must hand off the gold ring of their best dreams for the future
To the future (from whence it was borrowed).

Would Irene recall this nanosecond from our history?

Last October, she visited, far taller than I ever was, thin as a reed.
She recalled one holiday when, before we fell asleep, she asked
If I believed in God. I believed in yin yang, I said.
I didn’t recall this when she mentioned it.
Bit by bit, it came back to me.

Last year, for Christmas, I found her the yin yang symbol
On a button from the Green Festival. A yin and yang of two dolphins:
One underwater, circling a white reflected sun,
One leaping to an eclipsed sun in a streaky sky.

The colors were her colors -- purples, greens,
Slippery layers of light and dark.