PAD Challenge Day 13: Heirarchy
Day 13: Write a family poem.
I am the baby to my brother—
A true brother’s keeper and confidant.
We’ve cried on each other's shoulder,
Fought each other’s battles,
Prayed for our bullies,
Thrived through beautiful struggles,
And exchanged a token in life.
To mother, I am the chosen one—
The new pillar to harvesting apples on the tree;
A damsel she taught how to shatter generational
Curses, wave prayer around for answers
To shower miracles and blessings,
And crisscross spells with crosses,
Without the supervision and
Last name of my father or her father.
I inherited grandmother’s
northern wit and southern charm.
Love is our tattoo,
Sandwiched by her homemade soul food;
Chased by my top shelf cocktails
And a spoonful of banana pudding.
We are each other’s cure
through the good, the bad, and the cancer.
One out of eight,
she didn’t orphan her three babies
like her mother did her.
I did eat from her mother’s
pots once or twice.
She was the black sheep of the family.
She knew I was a bookworm
that loved cream corn and pancakes.
I admired her matching hats and suits
that she wore for Easter, and
to Eastern Star galas and funerals.
Freely, she always lent a hug
and a kiss. While her
White Diamonds by Elizabeth
Taylor scented my clothes,
she reminded me of
how much I resembled her mother.
Her mother was between the
shade of honey and hazelnut.
Train was her nickname.
Born to a free slave,
she was an orator from South Carolina
that led girls to high stature.
She took in my grandmother as her own.
She was a rock that
could not be rocked or skewed.
At the age of one,
I ate from her hands until she grew ill.
At the age of 10,
my aunt, gave me her
heirloom of jewelry
in her wooden jewelry box
that I’ll give to
my daughter too,