Gertrude Frieda Caroline Koehn: Grandma,
You painted a moon whose light was almost
Lost in oily rivers and brush-stroke trees.
You revived dim roses and irises
From a background that would not let them breathe.
They hung on the gas-stained walls of the rooms
Where you let me read nursery rimes and Norse
Mythology, or had me thread legends
From your box of sequins and chipped pearl beads.
Of my dad, your only child, I gathered
The gold-edged pieces of the china he
Gave you, left in the dark pride of Grandpa's
Home like untouched treasures in a dry tomb,
Like dishes we shall eat manna from
When we are no longer alone. Today
You came to heal me. Your name is written
New in my heart on a hidden white stone.
(Provo, Utah, 14 May 1979)
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment