Elephant'S Memory
Elephant'S Memory
I remember my grandfather yelling.
Yelling loudly at my mother
As she cowered on the floor
Like a fragile broken flower
Whose petals were once sweet in smell.
I remember my grandfather screaming.
Screaming out her name as he called her lazy,
Fat, boring, useless, and
A burden on the family;
A sore sight for all eyes,
Which was very unbecoming.
I remember my grandfather's continued barbs of hatred.
A knife to the heart would have killed her sooner
As he called her a loser, ugly, gullible, lifeless, and
A blemish on the surface,
And another thing that made him see red.
I remember thinking back,
Back to all the times I spent alone with my mother,
As she used to sit with me on her lap,
And shield me from any harm,
As she took on all the flack.
I remember how she used to braid my hair lovingly,
Each shining strand in place,
Sing to me,
Sleep with me,
Cook for me,
And sit beside me while I watched tv,
And prayed for me unfailingly.
I remember how she used to hug me so tightly,
That I used to feel complete again,
And I thought of her as a loving,
Beautiful, strong, and brave:
A caring mother at her core.
I will never see
Another person like her.