musée mia burrus

Elsie

Born without storm into autumnal gold, 
baby Elsie wore mystery, veiled in her caul, 
seeing only the love in our fathomless eyes.

Dispatched with an angel’s kiss, she arrived 
in Thanksgiving’s low glowing sun. Yet 
the lore of the caul conjured mystery drawn 
from a shadowless night.

Untroubled by her tumultuous journey 
into the light, a spirit safe-guarded, 
she drew on her mama’s settled serenity.

Sienna and silk: sweet fleur-de-lis.

Elsie’s first cries piqued heartfelt tears 
from her little big sister. Did she fathom
a question in Mila’s unsettled lament
 – who is this?  who turned this great wheel?

With a foot in the spirit realm, could Elsie 
call up that first green unknowing?  
Her own cries subdue into little knit brows.
  
Moon to Mila’s sun, soft autumn mist
to her sweet summer dew, Elsie brings gifts 
from beyond, brings the beyond itself, 
to our earthbound wonder, and unravels 
our carebound unseeing. 

The veil slips: love arises.