My grandma in her prime,

Dusting the bones of her body,

With my grandpa’s spirit and ingesting all my bitterness.

She knows the world in a way I do not.

She struggle with the patience of the calm before a storm,

But she is the resilient mountain,

The water of the waves hitting the rocks,

She is potent in her givings.

She swallows all my bitterness,

And caresses my heart with perseverance, I would not have otherwise.

I love her in the raging storms,

Her brittle figure, paints the image of strength in my eyes.