Book Of Poems

Miracle

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.