Through gran’s eyes
An insistent sprout shot
with youthful vigor
through the fragile film of soil.
Eager for the day.
Between the waves of gaudy winter storms
little feet in skates ruled
the sheen silver ice.
The nuances of their laughter
in the marry of the sounds.
As her head rises
Over the cereal bowl,
I see myself in her
The gleam of her eyes. Sparks.
Strength passed from parent to progeny.
The wrinkled woman smiled down
-as she did the first time-
at her grandchild kneeling before her
in a pool of white gown.
By her side her man, spruce and bowed-
as there was the first time.
At the breakfast table drunk
in the soft light.
My gran’s hair in streaks of grey
the lines on her brow evidence of pain.
In profile, the character lines by her eyes
evidence of her delight.
Wisdom honed with the power of years.
After returning to my home country for a week, and returning a little plumper too, I feel like my life has been reset and i’m new and fresh and eager to face everything approaching. I give credit to my grandmother, staying over at gran’s is always a great way to slow the pace of things and simply get out of the usual rush. There’s a thing about grandparents i feel, thought i’ve never met either of my grandfathers, that’s just so welcoming and warm. I can’t put my finger on it- could it be the blubbery hugs, the waddling way they walk, the deep lines in their faces as they give you life lessons- but it’s just so sincere and so heartfelt.
My grandmother is such a beautiful woman, she’s so strong and inspiring despite some rough times she’d had when she was younger. Frankly, calling them rough times is a huge understatement. And I want to acknowledge all the effort she has put in to creating this big family, to celebrate the boundless love that she has given and to thank her for the inspiration she has been me- this poem. :)