The face of trust

Her mother bought this,
after she left home,
and installed it in her garden,
by the kitchen door.
She never understood --
it didn't look like anything
she'd ever known about her mom --
but staring at it now,
lit by the waning moon,
I  see it is the face of trust:
a willingness to be, to shine,
and allow the lines of life --
the snakes, and roots,
and wrinkles carved by time
to inscribe themselves upon us
and not be touched
by fall, or fail, or fear.


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