The tears flow
the waters wash
memories
stories
pain
what was never said
dear grandmother
with this visit
I feel the constriction
in the throat
you were beautiful
you ran
and climbed trees
like I did
you fed my mother's dance
making angels in the snow
beating your wings
in the cold and ice
beat beat beat
like the heart beat of life
in the ice
frozen words
perhaps never spoken
for you too were a girl
and we all know
the risks that come with that
alone alone alone
you made it
you became a nurse
your ghosts haunted you
and silenced you
in your nightmares
but you made the best
shu-fly pie
the best
pumpkin bread
in minniapolis you insisted I drink milk
I hated milk
my mother lived her life
in search of the stories
that were silenced in your throat
she found goddesses who
could take wrath
kali innana
she tried to run from your silence
to a distant coast
she marched for women's equal rights
yes the right to speak to voice to call out STOP
as these tears wash wash wash
down my cheeks
I hope they sooth your throat
your body
your soul
grandfather's voice was low and strong and soothing
it promised so much
such a seductive radio voice
and yet he was cruel (and brilliant)
in his own ways
the happiest days were when he was away
and you played with your two daughters throwing snowballs
I hope you climb to the very tops of the trees in the sky
I hope you will make snow angels
in the clouds
and when it is time to rain
I hope your rains will fall fall fall
replenishing the earth
with the music of rainfall and thunder
—Lorena Wolfman
