Cynthia MacPherson – Grandmother

Grandmother,   you call me to tell our story
Grandmother,   help me to find the words
as I shape the smooth heads of our little ones
here in the river bed where mud oozes through my fingers

Grandmother,   help me to find the words
as I round the clay between my palms
in the river bed where mud oozes through my fingers
pulsing deep within my being

As I round the clay between my palms
memories primeval, deeper than words
pulse within my being.
Grandmother,   call up stories from the red earth of Africa

Memories primeval, deeper than words,
as I shape the smooth heads of our little ones
Grandmother,   call up stories from the red earth of Africa
Grandmother,   you call me to tell our story

Advertisements
By monthliesblog Posted in Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s