On Considering Jewelry as an Investment

The jewels on her folded hands
are a stained glass mosaic
against the cracks of her skin.
More are kept in the altar box,
an open casket of wealth.

Her earth's fruits, that had been buried
for two thousand years
and then plucked
from the ashes and dust of the land,
sit securely on her aging hands.

The jewels sparkle like the edged gold leaf
on the fragile pagesof her mother's girlhood Bible.
The family tome had been passed
on by her grandfather,
who had long since passed on.

Permanence glimmers at her
through the brilliant trinity
of ruby, emerald, and sapphire.
Unfading, they are her shelter
from the ashes and dust of that land.
Next to the skin of her knuckles,
that is bunched like the cotton fabric
of preacher robes
cinched at the waist,
the stones lie smooth and alluring
on her hands, folded
held in prayer.