To my Gran

 

That dear unrest,
that coil that came
so tightly bound,
you did not fear it,
the fight or flight your constance braved,
that light so dim you breathed upon,
those lessons there of love and giving,
and how to teach to be life equipped,
with you there Spring vine goes gently weaving
beneath this closed, barred door again.
To think you may not know this holy
grounding gift you gave to me.
To share your aura, if just in moments,
each of them are, in truth, divine.