Grandmother.

One finger laced to another
The quiet snap of gas between bone
as they fold together
A road-map of journeys internal
Translucent blue, meandering
Pronounced against silken paper skin
Brittle, dry, fragile yet strong
Encasing a vibrant soul that hasn’t aged
Still the body fails it
Betrayed to the endless embrace
Of the deepest sleep
Crevice and line share a story
of infant, to girl, to woman, to elder
of child, to sister, to mother
A life spent laughing
So tired, so heavy grow the lids
of faded blue eyes
Rest now
All beginnings must end.

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Sorting out my life by writing about it.

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