Eyes In Your Heart

This is a poem I wrote for my Grandmother after she passed away.

     I wish I held your hand more and took it up against my face, so we could be our saving grace, at least for while. I seldom saw you smile near end of your time, but smiled at you at your faithful eyes. Though the eyes above your smiling wrinkles became blind, the eyes in your heart saw mighty fine. You could hardly hear a thing, but the Lord spoke loud to you anyway. Oh faithful grandmother we can still talk lots, but it won't be the same, cause now you can walk. Walk beside me, so I won't be a mess. I remember you, Grandma at your best, when you'd watch brother and I for the weekend.

     Mitsy sat outside our bed, yelled at any who tried to come in. Attempting to defend. Her eyes were blind like yours would be, but why should they not see when you took her home before she was euthanized. There's a bitter irony in our lives, but maybe when it makes you cry that log washes out of your eye. The last of Grandma Mitsys paintings are on my wall. She lives in the mountains she made and in my soul. We all grow old, but sometimes eyes inside hearts stay closed. I can see in grandmas art that the eyes in her heart are open wide and flutter like a monarch.

Author's Note

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