Category: Artwork

Detail from Joan’s last drawing

Possession

Always that piece of paper that makes it official:
The birth certificate,
The death certificate,
The marriage license,
The bill of sale….
As though nothing could happen without it.

If you belong somewhere,
That place belongs to you
As surely as loving can make a child.

That stretch of beach,
Where I know the many faces of the tides
At different seasons
The way I know my lover’s moods,
You say does not belong to me?

The old house with slanting floors,
Beneath the giant tulip trees,
Musty in summers,
In winters, filled with the scent of woodsmoke
From its rough hearth,
You say it isn’t mine?

When all that left of me is papers,
They’ll never know how rich I was!

by Joan Freeman Williams (undated)