In her grandchildren,
her spirit is woven–
What a tapestry
These children create.
The strongest fibers
of her determination run
In the eldest, wearing her grandmother’s face,
Though she never knew her.
Threads of her courage and strength
Weave into the only one who knew her,
Who can remember the smell of her beef stew,
As the grown child wages a battle for her life.
Yarns of responsibility and fun spin
In the lone grandson,
As he raises his son
And forgets not how to play.
The delicate fine threads of her caring and her dreams
Spin through the twins,
Born too late to know her,
One doing what must be done
to care for others.
the other creating a business of her art.
The warm, soft yarn of her love and generosity
weaves through the youngest, my daughter,
Born under the same December sun,
As she becomes a nurse caring
For babies born too early.
In my mother’s grandchildren,
A tapestry of faith is woven,
And I am taught
DNA is more than science,
Woven with soul upon
Some ancient loom.
This tapestry of spirit
Where my mother lives still.
Hearing The Mermaids Sing 
Oh, I love this one. Beautiful spiritual meaning caught in the fine lines of actual physical reality. Wonderful the way you find the different ways a “thread” of someone from the past can be in the lives of those who come after — even if they don’t know it. This is true Truth and incredibly meaningful as poetic wisdom.
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Thank you so much, Jane. My hope is that my mother’s grandchildren recognize those threads so they can see it their own children and pass it on as the legacy of their grandmother.
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You can feel your heart and soul in this poem. It is a really nice poem
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Thank you so much.
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Great post 😁
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Thank you
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Beautiful!
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Thank you, V.J.
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Welcome!
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What a splendid tribute. Hugs and love to you 🌸💕
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Thank you
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My pleasure 💐🌺🌿
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