Napo 18

Today's Napo is about my grandmother. I inherited a lot from her -- my name, my chubby feet, my stubbornness. Probably most marked, at least recently, has been my spinal condition, though. My mom and my grandma never got along, so I never really got to know her very well before she passed away. 

So this poem is a little bit about that. I'd like to write more about my grandma Grace, about our relationship that really isn't one, and yet, how she shapes the way I move in this world still. 

Today's prompt was to write a poem about things I know for certain. When it comes to my grandma, that list is pretty short, but hmm...

Napo 18

Things I Know About Her

I know you had to be beautiful once,

We all were in a moment in time

When the sun danced on the tip

Of your nose, when your skin

Smelled of raspberries, your hair

Like gardenias, when you wore spring

Across your shoulders like a shawl.

I know your life must have been marked

With beauty, five daughters, each one

A heavy blessing you had to carry yourself.

I know you gave my mother

Her narrow, piercing eyes, her mouth

That became stone, her grimace.

I know you gave me your name

And I carry it on my back, a cruel

Joke, Grace, as I stumble through life.

I don’t know if you were good,

Or evil, I don’t know if simply

Did the best you could, or perhaps

You could have given more 

of yourself, your tired, heavy body.

I know that you gave me your spine –

each crick, each twist, each crack,

My mom said you’d be delighted

That I’ve stumbled into your footsteps,

Fallen into the same crevice of pain,

A cycle of pills, stiff muscles, days wasted

In the hospital, only to claw my way back

into the sunlight. There’s so much I don’t know,

And if you were still here, I would ask

How you got through it all, rose

From your bed each morning,

hoisting the huge weight of earth

Onto your twisted, tired spine.