When I lost my mama,
I wept in the arms of a woman
who had just lost her only child.
My grannie is 82 years old,
and she is a woman of faith.
She stayed with mama
right up to the end.
Came when she called in the night.
My grannie is a woman of faith,
and she bears what she has to.
Yesterday, I called her.
She had spent most of an unusually warm
January day cleaning out her flower beds.
"Clear away the dead, and there's already new
trying to come up. Can you believe it?"
My grannie bears what she has to,
even my doubts.
For Karin's prompt at Real Toads