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My Grandmother told me her life was an open book!
Now I understand. When life is recorded on rice paper
Sheets, The tears and years clearly reveal each winding
Street.
The faces that glow from an old picture on the
Wall of a woman's big heart, for a one-woman so small!
Yet, her courage and strength stood ever so tall!
Each chapter voice clear, the sorrows and cheer. The
Battles and defeat, her journey that left the Mediterranean
Sea behind, to free herself and family kind, a journey
Of hope, and peace to find!
She spoke of freedom but missed the hills of Sicily.
Her homeland stayed warmly in her mind, the land
Were her Parents was laid to rest, now apart of her
Remains, the climate and soil trigger memories test.
I see her cover free of dust, her favorite words,
" In God we trust!" Her love and strength stand in
each chapter....
Like mighty tungsten webs hanging from the rafters;
An intricate weave of love and desire to believe.
Believe in God, belief in family and belief in one's self
Or become the dust-ridden books closed on the shelf.
So if you enter my home, if you should catch a glimpse
Of an open book, my loving Grandmother has captured
A look.........
( Her journal holds the pages of time and remains a treasure
Sublime )
Now I understand. When life is recorded on rice paper
Sheets, The tears and years clearly reveal each winding
Street.
The faces that glow from an old picture on the
Wall of a woman's big heart, for a one-woman so small!
Yet, her courage and strength stood ever so tall!
Each chapter voice clear, the sorrows and cheer. The
Battles and defeat, her journey that left the Mediterranean
Sea behind, to free herself and family kind, a journey
Of hope, and peace to find!
She spoke of freedom but missed the hills of Sicily.
Her homeland stayed warmly in her mind, the land
Were her Parents was laid to rest, now apart of her
Remains, the climate and soil trigger memories test.
I see her cover free of dust, her favorite words,
" In God we trust!" Her love and strength stand in
each chapter....
Like mighty tungsten webs hanging from the rafters;
An intricate weave of love and desire to believe.
Believe in God, belief in family and belief in one's self
Or become the dust-ridden books closed on the shelf.
So if you enter my home, if you should catch a glimpse
Of an open book, my loving Grandmother has captured
A look.........
( Her journal holds the pages of time and remains a treasure
Sublime )
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My Grandmothers Journal
My Grandmothers Journal