The day I turned every leaf around waving Autumn trees by my Grandmother’s dead bed in November her hands looked like she wasn’t a day over thirty and in the fading of her glistering aura she looked like millions of white lilies signalling a memory letter of ancient love no more ship wrecks no more wars no more boys fighting walls they didn’t build and no more men sung to sleep at Sea then she left with the Northern Wind and nothing but grace she was after all a dancer.
Victoria, thank you for this deeply moving poem. My mom passed in October and, as I sat with her, my attention seemed to keep returning to her hands so I was taken with your line about your Grandmother's hands.
This is absolutely beautiful ❤️ I thought of my nana who lived through two world wars. ugh. 😭 On with the day. Thank you. ox