I am drawn to the circular path,
the one-way passage to the center,
then retracing the same way out,
though it never looks the same.

I gave her the little silver spiral
set onto a turquoise glass pendant.
I don’t recall how often she wore it,
or if she did, our lady of the zillion
necklaces, which she left to my sister
and me.

This one is more her style than mine,
but the spiral reminds me of a labyrinth,
my favorite walking meditation that
always settles something, even when
I don’t know what the something is.

As I walk the path and wind the curves,
I’m suffused with a kind of calm,
the same cool color that hangs
just below my clavicle.

Peace arrives unbidden,
descending as a form of grace—
another gift that I had no idea
she was leaving behind,
one I could not have found
until after she was gone.