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A poem about long ago
In the corner of our dining room
An old cabinet holds the past
Brought from a distant country
From Grandma’s last address
Hidden behind the dishes
Tucked away like precious wishes
Not a one could ever know
how much they mean
My mother often questions
She asks from where they came
Grandma says “sit I’ll tell you”
Her stories are the same
She laughs she cries she questions why
The world was so bad then
The world was torn to pieces
The world she thought would end
All that she could carry
as they ran to save their lives
Sits in that old cabinet
All that is left is just those five
Someday she tells my Mom
I hope you will follow through
To tell of my life’s memories
That I now entrust to you.
— WOLRAD
(A poem from the Wolrad collection #385)
