THE BLOG

Grandmother to Child

05/12/2015 01:49 pm ET | Updated May 11, 2016

Grandmother
You sit
Wrapped in your Persian melon colored blanket
Rock back and forth
On that old rusty country porch
Whom the neighbors across the street
Once called
Rusty Oak
Spit tobacco
South of melancholy
Hair braids in pigtails
Sit postured on the porch where we
Often bow our heads together

My head pressed downward
Eyes red with mist
You grab my chin and raise it to the sky
Grandmother
Those words spoken so softly
Yet so stern
I remember you said
My bronze child
Don't you look at your life upside down
You got every bit of courage in you
To step upright and
Poke your chest to the weary sky
Take heart of your destiny
Carry faith before your journey
Walk my grandson
Walk