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Grandmother MAG
March 9, 2021
Who nurtured nature.
Who grew a garden
in the wake of this fire.
Grandmother who nurtured nature,
I’m sorry for the ash.
Grandmother who nurtured nature,
I’m sorry for these foreign words.
Grandmother,
I love you the dearest.
And though I don’t know how
to write these colors,
I hope you take pride in this flower,
And in this garden you grew.
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There is not a living soul in this world I love more than my grandmother. And like the sweet gardener she is, she also natured me. This poem is an apology born from the crushing guilt of our disconnect in language: She will not be able to read this english and I will never be able to write in Chinese. Nevertheless, I wish she will still be proud of her creation, regardless of our pain.