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Für Meine Urgroßmutter
March 31, 2018
She ages with youth,
And bleeds with history;
German at her lips,
Words a mystery.
Four rosaries at her bedside,
She waits for her time;
Her thoughts are muddled,
And bitter like lime.
Her joints are creaking,
Her hunch is pronounced;
Her spirit is young,
But smile unannounced.
I dread the day,
She lays on her side;
Falls asleep,
And dies in her pride.
Her independence is lost,
Her mind isn't quiet;
Her presence is muted,
A soft graced riot.
She ages with youth,
And bleeds with history;
German at her lips,
Words a mystery.
© Monica L., St. George, UT
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This was inspired by my Great Grandmother - a German-born woman who lived through WW2 in Poland. She turned 89 this year. It was very sad to me, that after going through such horror as the War, she's now succumbing to her own health problems - this is what came of that.