A Triolet for Frodo

My hand is marred, the long-gone finger pains,
White scar upon my shoulder, scarcely seen,
Yet aching with the seeping cold that chills again.
My hand is marred, the long-gone finger pains
With every change of wind and rain.
Flesh scarred, the torment always keen,
My hand is marred, the long-gone finger pains,
White scar upon my shouder, scarcely seen.

My hand, though marred, still handles things;
The ordinary life of living still goes on.
My voice still speaks, (though does not sing).
My hand, though marred, still hands things
To me. Touches hot, and cold that stings,
Feels water, though the finger’s gone.
My hand, though marred, still handles things,
The ordinary life of living still goes on.

My hand, so marred, can lift the looking glass,
And in the looking glass my face can smile
Though tears, and not the foolish smile, will last.
My hand, so marred, can lift the drinking glass,
Yet sweet dark wine won’t help the pain to pass,
Nor ease my broken heart a little while.
My hand, so marred, can lift the looking glass,
And in the looking glass my face can smile.

My hand, still marred, lies on my breast
And holds the Starwhite Gem that brings me ease.
The pain beats there, it does not rest.
Hand, still marred, lies on my breast
And feels the pain. Deep hid, I fear lest
The pain might live beyond the seas.
Hand still marred, lies on my breast
And holds the Starwhite Gem that brings me ease.

My hand, though marred, is healed of pain.
My broken heart created new and whole
Now beats beneath the Starwhite gem again.
My hand, though marred, is healed of pain,
Joy warms my body, and lovely peace again
Pours over me, and lifts my soul.
My hand, though marred, is healed of pain,
My broken heart is beating, new and whole.

- Vison