Every black bead, every red bead and every gold spacer was pieced together
by a woman who can be loving one minute and hurtful the next.
My favorite colors are clearly displayed throughout the piece.
They are by no means precious. The gems that make it up are dull.
It was originally meant to be a simple anklet, but it didn’t fit.
Meanwhile, a broken chain from a favorite necklace
left me with only a stone-studded cross in a sterling embrace.
I could have had the chain fixed, but keeping it seemed kind of silly.
I should’ve just thrown the whole thing out
with a promise to myself that I would replace it soon.
But the more I looked at each piece, the less I could bring myself to part with either one.
So in that moment, the idea was formed.
The fragile and tenuous connection between my mother and I
and the unbreakable bond that is my father and I
Would now, forever hang in one dangling piece around my wrist.
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