Someone's Grandfather |
(this is for you, Granddaddy) |
Someone's Grandfather sits woodenly |
totem still, but for fluttering hands. |
His memories are getting harder to grasp |
like grains of wind blown sand. |
Someone's Grandfather sits in forever silence |
staring off into space. |
Trapped in the nothingness |
that is reflected on his face. |
Still, someone's Granddaughter comes to visit |
And every now and then |
perceives a spark of brief recognition |
when she asks, "Granddad, remember when...?" |
Someone's Grandfather is loved. |
Someone's Granddaughter has not forgotten. |
Poetry by: JoAnn McEntire Jackson |
copyright JoAnn McEntire Jackson 2001, 2002 |
There Go I... |
Mumbling to herself |
she sits on sad streets. |
Everything she owns |
lays bagged at her feet. |
There go I, but for the blessing |
of friends and family, |
who would see that I was fed |
and had a roof to shelter me. |
There go I, but for God's good grace, |
in the same ill fitting shoes. |
Unkempt and unsheltered |
with little left to lose. |
Poetry by: JoAnn McEntire Jackson |
copyright JoAnn McEntire Jackson 2001, 2002 |
These candles burn in memory of Christine - my niece, my sister, my best friend. Rest in the arms of angels Chris, you will live in my heart forever. |