MATROSHKA

Five beings

Sometimes nested in each other

Sometimes apart

But always a unit

Pride of a nation

Toil of the artisans

Symbol of everything beautiful

and exotic in a foreign land.

No two patterns are alike

But all are the same.

The chill of December bites through every layer of my clothes

I can’t feel my fingers or toes, but I am here in the marketplace anyway

On a quest for the gifts I must bring from current home to my native one

It is, I think, a peace offering
a way of asking those whom I have forsaken for forgiveness

To let them feel a part of what I’m doing

To let them know I still think of them, that I still care.

The child’s eyes grow bright at the sight of her new treasure

I have to help her take them apart and put them together again

She asks me to give them names from their native land—

“But can you write them in English?”

She makes a blanket for them

And puts them in their new bed

I know they have gone to a good home.

Bridget Goodman

Originally written and presented October 5, 2002

Revised October 9, 2002