Poetry, Not Panties

HR and I met on a blind-friend-date set up by her older sister, whom I met in graduate school. On that summer day, we met at a coffee shop in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn and spent an entire afternoon wandering the neighborhood, looking at art, and talking about what (and who) was on our hearts. It was an instant friend connection that has lasted over 7 years, through grief and heartbreak, dog walks and pizza parties. She's the best story teller I know and has a way of framing my hurt and insecurities in the most beautiful way. I hold her nuggets of truth and comfort close to my heart and access them often. To put it simply, the woman is magic.

Last weekend I flew to Minnesota to celebrate HR's Hen Party (the Australian version of a bachelorette party). Her lady loves (dubbed "Hillary's Hens") flew in from around the country, and we spent the weekend drinking wine around a wood burning stove in a farmhouse in rural Minnesota. In lieu of lingerie, each Hen brought a poem to a share (as if the setting wasn't poetic enough.) In our circle Mary Oliver and Billy Collins were read aloud in tribute to HR and her love. I hadn't been able to find what I wanted in a poem, though I had searched in all of my poetry anthologies from college, so instead I wrote one myself.

"A Ring Around You"

It has been said, when an elephant gives birth
The female elephants form around her.
In a ring of sisterly shelter,
Stomping and trumpeting their trunks.

In jubilation and triumph,
but also in warning.
This circle of safety to protect
The fragile, perfect one inside.

So do we surround ours.
So do we surround you,
And the fragile, perfect love
Beating behind your rib cage.

Our stomps are dances,
Our trumpeting laughter,
We form a ring around you
Like gold bands on the fingers
Of your sweetheart and you.