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It happened after
I walked the hall all day
and heard talk of surgery,
after the grumpy nurse ran
me out of the hall three times
because my ear was pressed
to the door.
The awesome moment occurred
the moment I held you in my arms,
touched your cheek, soft as a feather,
looked into your big, blue eyes
and realized that the same blood
coursed through your tiny veins
as my beloved ancestors
passed on before me.
How easily you captured me.
You took a strong, independent
woman and turned her into mush,
compliant to your every need.
I was not strong enough to fight
against instinct or mother nature.
It was then, I fully understood
the meaning of the word “Grandson.”

Glenda Barrett is an artist and the author of a chapbook of poetry, When the Sap Rises.

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