For Grandmother Zenaida Who Died Before I was Born
I don’t know you
but I will
I’ll poke tired earth
dig beet roots
pinch pine bark
pull chickweed
lift stones
until I find you
like a penny
in a fresh-tilled garden
a lost marble
behind a toolshed
a book whose margins
were your only diary
pressed under a pillow
to dream me
into the world
I will find you
you don’t know me
but you will, you will
3 thoughts on "For Grandmother Zenaida Who Died Before I was Born"
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Shelda = Fantastic images here. Love the idea of poking at the tired earth and your listings. Great repetition at the end!
Love the way knowing and not knowing one another frame the poem.
Hi Shelda! Kim from mfa land. I really like this poem, reminding me that it took many ancestors I never met to get me here—and wanting to know them in some way, find connection with them