Scrapping the darkness of your back
the ripples of life etched like waves
line after line after line
indecipherable mystery of your youth
You lie there like a child, soft, warm, wane
weary of the sun, yet refusing to let down
that façade of power you so wish to keep
that strength, that dignity, that
which is still yours if you just believe.
Grandma dearest lies sloshed in sweat
drenched by age and dulled by days
taciturn to tell the truth of her ways.
If I had not asked, would you have asked
for the love of your grandchild?
Scrapping away the sunstroke off your back
memories of chocolate sweetness arrive:
In Shi-men-ting you took us to escape
from lovers’ quarrels and life’s struggles.
In that tiny flat for two, you squashed in
love for four, tending to our needs.
I moaned when head ached
and you would scrape,
with porcelain spoon and tiger balm
down my shoulder and neck
stroking away the pain.
Grandma dearest please
believe you are not weak
when your body is wane.
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4 comments:
Honeybee,
I hope all is well with your grams. I sincerely do.
love,
Cata
dear cata,
hey hey, thanx. this poem was written when I was still in Taiwan, my gram is well now, but on the day I wrote the poem I realised how fragile she is even to a small sun stroke and it scared me.
chic girl, i posted your poem on my blog, hope you don't mind. :))
of course not, thank you for enjoying it:)
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