Staggering No longer kneeling, she now tries to balance the burden of past on staggering feet. One foot after the other she walks to the ladder that climbs up to the a blank test bench. An ancestral time rhymes scared steps. Her heart- a blacksmith forging love from rusted metal debris- hammers while polishing worn out tools. The red glow's kept hot by dream-operated bellows... She welds pieces of trust.
Paula Grenside's Questions:
Does the title provide a clue to the content of the poem?
Is the analogy with the blacksmith effective or too forced?