Rooted
There’s a necklace in a drawer with the
memory of cracked hands, piano hymns,
and my grandmother’s bliss
singing “Joy to the World”
earrings from an aunt whose
spirit warms my stomach
bubbling from the ground up
until I’m high on her laugh that’s
too loud for a reverent restaurant
rings that my mother left and
would never have guessed
I would grow so fond of
I carry these memories of events
and people on my body
rooted reminders
of who I am and
have always been
a heavy reminder for such delicate chains
Joy, joy to the world
taking off makeup at the
end of the day is a simple routine
Taking off jewelry, however,
is an emotional extraction stored
safely in a box
resting, peacefully, at ease
waiting to remind my roots
again, tomorrow
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