What I got
was a crocheted bag
after all the bickering
in fighting and degradation
As panic crawled up my spine
and released itself
in waterfalls down my face
costume jewelry and old clothes
picture albums and antique furniture
the sum of her near eighty years
and they fought
digging through the past
laying claim to what belonged to a family
to generation
with every fowl utterance
destroying memories and
desecrating love
disintegrating integrity
dehumanizing everything she was
I quietly returned the pictures
memorized her faint script and
redeposited her letters
removed the beloved pictures
and released any claim I had
I left with her crocheted bag
the only memento
of my grandmother's life
the only unwanted item
they allowed me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment