Spread before me,

What I stand to gain.

Passed down by blood and through death

from the family line.

The pearls glow grey

amidst the WASP-ish silence

my grandmother raised us in. And her mother before

and my father after.

Fix your hair, wear your pearls, line your lips,

and keep them closed.

The diamonds sparkle in the light,

the price of a blind eye, of forgiveness,

Without apology. Forgiveness where none is due.

For peace and reputation worth more than

The studded earrings he brought you when you found

Her.

And the ruby solitaire.

The ring that popped the question and

sealed the deal. Sealed her fate.

And mine.

It glows large and red. A promise of security,

wealth, a future.

At the cost of a temper to match

that flares red hot to burn. To strike.

Wounds open and hearts are broken,

Stitched up in the quiet of the kitchen.

The gems sparkle against the document

that calls them mine. The final will and testament.

It lists the jewels and their value,

but not the cost.

Not the inheritance that blood has already

promised me.

Do they seal my fate or merely reflect what

I have no power to refuse?

My family made their choices, caused and took

their pain, broke hearts and lives around them.

Generations later,

I am gifted with the gems the outside saw,

but am I also cursed with the pain they hid?