Old Grandmother

Poem I read at my Grandmother's Funeral

Old grandmother, your ears are closed now,

But I will continue through until the end,

Just as you did, as far as your life would allow.

Holes left by your passing I patch to mend,

And much as you sowed with your hand on your trowel,

I will plant these words with intention to send,

Sweet bitter sentiments through those here to listen,

And to your soul, its return so cruelly forbidden.

With individual memory but together in pain,

We stand upon this pier and watch your grand-boat sail,

Away from us, our eyes crystal, our tears rain,

But our memories of you will not fail,

As we horde them here, on our land main,

For us to keep, your remembrance avail,

In that your past is now our present,

And memories passed have become pleasant.

So let the water that is compassion,

Flow from our hearts to yours, 

Like fine oil paints in its fashion,

They flex towards your dwindling cause,

This, your very last occasion,

To bring us together and forget our chores,

For you were a friend from birth to the end,

An amiable spirit with whom none could contend.

Simplicity pleasures the complex mind,

Your painting and such is now ours to keep dear,

Your passing a black cloud, but silver lined,

With happiness reflected in our every tear,

Because we all know you did not live blind,

You saw all worth seeing, and heard with your ear,

The sounds to conjure that brilliant smile,

And made the lives of others by far worthwhile.

As a member of the world and of our lives too,

You questioned your duty never,

Only kept swimming, always on the move,

With eyes tuned to minutia.

And now that all is gone and through,

Your soul to the wind, a bird's lost feather,

You leave behind the product of your labour,

Happy grandchild, offspring, friend and neighbour.

My true intention is gratefulness,

For I never truly thanked you,

And, despite my latefulness,

This writing from my mind grew,

To demonstrate my thankfulness,

For it's the least deserved, it's true,

And so your exit from our lives is but material,

And your memory retains its splendor imperial.

The End

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