Mending The Hoop Poem by Tsani Jones

The day you were born
We were given a hoop,
A ring, a bond of silver,
That we polished and buffed
To a shine.
It tarnished and broke the day you were taken.

We searched, and looked,
Under every tree,
Every rock, opened every hole.
Hired the finest silversmiths,
Begged the greatest jewelers,
No one could mend the hoop.

No amount of tears could repair,
No pricetag mounted, or money paid
Could mend the break,
Or the hole in our hearts.
Thirty eight years we lived
In the thin air with nothing but hope.

We kept the hoop safe,
Wrapped in velvet and silk,
Waited and prayed for the
Mender to take our case.
We survived,
And we were patient.

But today the sun rose
Over the crest of the
Hills of home,
And we knew the one
We awaited for so long
Had arrived at long last.

For during this home,
You knew it too,
And walked the long, dusty road
Back home to the home
You never knew,
But felt in your heart.

Your travels could not
Have been easier than
Ours, even with the dark years.
But as we saw the speckled dawn
On this beautiful morning,
We smiled and cried with joy.

Today we are mending the hoop.

Today we weave our toes
Through the soil,
And our hearts soar with
The eagles.
For we have touched you after so long.
And today we have touched God.

You have your father's eyes,
And see, you have your mother's
Gentle smile,
And the years of loneliness
And anguish are no longer
Of any more importance than the color
Of the postman's truck.

For today,
We have mended that which
Was broken and shattered,
And recovered that one
Precious thing which was lost.
And we shall never lose it again.

For the sacred hoop of our family
Has at last been mended.