Head held skyward
She intones the sacred rhyme
Silver glinting at her throat
Dagger in hand
The daughter of time
Gazes wellwise
Alert for future echoes
Ripples gifted
From mother to loyal acolyte
Still and quiet
And forgetting her own name
She drinks deeply and
Accepts the burden
Imbibes the water
Which has turned to tears
Swallows them
To make them whole again
(June 2003)