I AM One
In a long line of poets.
~
My grandmother,
Now ninety-eight,
Spent lifetime writing about her God.
She writes about how “He Lives!”
And how “Great He Is.”
How he offers up chocolate when hunger gnaws,
And a ten dollar bill when there is nothing.
He is her Master as well as her Salvation.
Her Source, her Solace, her sole Inspiration.
~
My mother,
Much younger,
Spent days scattered through years writing about her life.
She writes about love and children
And how great they are.
How they offer up a busy day when depression threatens,
And hope, when there is none.
They are her Challenge as well as her Comfort.
Her Dreams, her Accomplishments, her Future.
~
My daughter,
Much younger still,
Spent hours writing about this world and its inequities.
She writes about joy and despair
And how they affect reality‘s perception.
How they roam through her life with a life of their own,
Leaving impressions as reminders of what has been endured.
They are her Teachers as well as her Nemeses
Her Motivators, her Fears, her Companions.
~
I,
Marking my age near the middle,
Spend hours, days, weeks, writing about them all.
I write about lessons learned and connections made,
And how they nurture growth.
How they forge the way back to God,
Creating opportunities to correct mistakes and try again.
They are my Source, my Dreams, and my Motivation.
~
Together,
We write the vital, the real,
Telling a history (herstory) of divine women,
Each doing her best, in her own way,
To figure it out and move forward.
I come from a family of writers too. After my parents died, I found a journal my grandfather kept in 1918, writing about the joy of having my father, his first child. I also discovered sheet music he had written and poems. My father longed to write but didn’t, too busy working and reading to get to the writing. My older brother has an MFA in creative writing and is an award-winning author of short ficition as well as a self-employed editing and writing professional (like me). I decided I wanted to be a writer when I was about 12 and had my first articles published when I was 15. Writing is my joy and my bane. A hard way to make a living, but oh what a way to feed a soul.
I love the way you intertwined your family history and love for your craft.
I only started writing 3 years ago but I can relate to the love and passion you feel for the craft. Keep those words coming.
I’m tearing up and nodding my head….of course…what connects us is our endeavors to be our stories…to ensure them…and each other….
I am soo moved that you’ve penned the connection the common thread this way….I will share this poem with my mother and my grandmother, now 87….they do not write but they indeed strive ‘to figure it out and move forward.’
So moved and so grateful to have connected with you….
Here’s to keeping on figuring it out and moving forward ….Hugs and much gratitude…