Owed to Mother (in Praise of Debt)

When you believe life is a hammer,
you begin acting like a nail.
After 91 years of burying your head
in wood, it's hard to see the forest
for the block you're stuck in.

91 years of holding things together
with a hard head and galvanized coating
that lately has  begun to crack
from the stress and the holding back
of tears. The cracks run red with rust.

Where did the time go? Your driving force,
your pointed words, not blunted
by forces beyond your comprehension.
But still you stand erect, ready for the
final blow, the soft melting into heavy elements.

Dian Duchin Reed