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