Grandma’s brown arms
wrapped around the world
and held it tight,
close to her bosom,
close to her heartbeat.
Grandma’s brown arms
always listened,
paid attention,
knew just how tight
to squeeze,
and when to let go.
Grandma loved fierce,
fiercer than anyone.
In her brown arms
I know
I was pressed to a force
that felt with me,
fought with me,
floundered, never.
Wise with life,
wise with love,
wise with hurt,
Grandma’s brown arms
wrapped around the world.

Posted in: Poetry
Tagged: 2014