I have never been so afraid of these yellow lines
Blank and empty, exemplifying this void
Time and Life plotted to place where hope used to lie
Hands trembling, pencil fumbling words
...that are just not good enough
Through eyelashes pregnant with tears
She manifests in my reflection
These eyes, slanted and small
differentiating me from my brother and sister
I inherited from her - my grandmother
Her Chinese ancestry evident in my light skin
This bow leggedness I used to curse during summer's heat
I now embrace 'cause the same curvature
Enabled her to walk steadfastly through Life's tribulations
My grandmother was... I mean my grandmother IS
The reason I believe women have invisible capes
See, she birthed 12 and raised 11 babies
And their babies' babies
This woman mustered and transceded all the courage her 4'9 frame could offer
Cradled countless children in one hand
and ironed out the juvenile out of their clothing with the other
She launderd away fears with weathered hands
And nurtured lessons only wisdon could articulate properly
She abounded in love not only for the entirety
But for us individually
I wish I had the metaphor to describe the wonder in that
But I don't
All I've left are memories...
A collection of disjointed moments
Rather than smooth chronology
Her whispers used to scream about my ancestry
Utilized fingers crooked by arthritis to gracefully point me down memory lane
To a time when she had to hide in attics
In fear of the Japanese invasion
She spoke with conviction, placing Jesus above all
Then her husband
She was wonder woman, Venus, and Mrs. Klaus all rolled into one life force
Compressed rice balls as if fixing a broken heart
And fed it to me in case I ever needed another one inside my chest
From her I learned to love
Unconditionally. Perpetually.
The love she shared with my grandfather is the sort
fairy tales were depicted from
Even after war, poverty and natural disasters
etched wrinkles into their skin
and ballooned permanent bags under their eyes
They were still so much in love
I remember whispers and giggles from their bedroom in the quiet of nights
And slow dances in the middle of the kitchen
to nothing but the ryhtmic drums their hearts played
Ten years after his death and
dimentia conspiring with her own body to rob her of memories...
She would forget my name, forget my father's face
forget the other branches of the family tree she planted many years ago
But there was
one face
on name
one promise
That prevailed
His photograph safely kept under her pillow
and his memory everlasting in her heart
I will never forget the love in her smile every time she finished singing:
"Maalaala mo kaya ang sumpa mo sa akin
Na ang pag-ibig mo ay sadyang di magmamaliw?
Kung nais mong matanto buksan ang aking puso
At tanging larawan mo ang doo’y nakatago
'Di ka kaya magbago sa iyong pagmamahal?
Tunay kaya giliw ko hanggang sa libingan?"
This Journal is for Soul Searchers & Anyone
