Talismans are private treasures
Not for envious eyes
Worn secretly or caressed in a pocket
The seeker’s special prize.
Twisted or carved from metal
Bought or given or found
Whether from a store or the Earth
A feather or rock from the ground.
Why do some of us need an artifact?
A visual or tactile token?
It is unexplainable
An urge better left unspoken.
Birds are part of my decades
Chirping like an alarm bell
I wish I could hold them closely
But effigies seem to work well.
I have a tin of talismans
I touch one when uncertain
Not one has ever failed me
After raising an unfathomable curtain.
© 2014 ViataMaja, Poetic Alchemy