United in our Grief Forum.

I found my mother's prayer beads the other day. Ever since, I found them I've used them instead of my own. Today, I found the medicine pouch that a friend of mine made before he died. I had put the pouch in a bag I carry when I go to doctor's appointment because my purse is too small for the books and everything else I have to take to the appointments. My friend, who was native American used his pouch for loose change, but I use mine to hold my prayer beads. I want to write a poem about the prayer beads, as well as the medicine pouch; the problem I'm facing is finding a starting place for both poems. I remember Mom using the prayer beads because she had such a beautiful voice when she chanted. Her voice echoed throughout the house, she sounded like an angel.