Our family history is intricate
As each generation had a miracle occur
But you were delicate
And irrational you were.
After the return to the J'oburg sun,
You seemed to be done
With the waiting and hoping continuously
To be with us in the Belgian rain.
Granny, you didn't see it that way.
You thought the colorful assortments
Of tablets were bringing you down,
Making you feel worse.
Deciding to take a chance,
To believe in an infinite supply of miracles,
You stopped.
We stopped talking for a week.
We hoped you were okay.
We never stopped waiting for your call.
You never did,
On Saturday, May 6th, 2017,
A friend, a woman who helped you when you were down
She called us...
The first thought in my head being:
"Granny died"
For once, I hoped my intuition was wrong
About you.
But I was disappointed.
You had hoped for a miracle.
For your sickness to leave your body
Without the help of your prescriptions
That I used to help you organize
Many years ago.
The whole week you were in pain
And I couldn't help you
The way I used to.
This just showed me something about us:
There's only one miracle per person.
Or that's how it seems to be.
Unless the true miracle
Was for you to rest
And be with us finally
In the Belgian rain.
YOU ARE READING
Book Of Poems
PoezieStarted writing poems on Tumblr, decided to put them all into a book on here. :) For those that were requested on tumblr and on here, it will say at the top that it was requested. If there is no indication, then I wrote it with a request. :) Some of...
