Walking the Grandmother Path

My Grandma, Florence "Floss" Marr

My Mother, Renee Marr Baker

All the way back,

all the mothers and grandmothers

in my family had strong backs:

for bearing children

in tents and covered wagons,

for pushing back raw wilderness

to make a home,

for digging in unyielding soil

to feed their children,

some of whom survived.

Some of them were healers.

Some of them were Celtic crones,

who spoke with ghosts.

One of them fled the potato famine

and found herself in the deep freeze

of a prairie winter.

One of them rode across the prairie

on horseback

in hobbled skirts.

She caught

my grandfather's eye.

A long line of grandmothers

walked the grandmother path

before she

who walked here

before me.

In my past are warrior women,

mystics and dreamweavers,

witches and nuns,

women sitting in Council

and governing.

Somewhere back there,

once women's spirits flew.

Somewhere back there

our souls clawed their way

out of bondage

and raised awakened eyes 

to the sky.

Now I walk

the grandmother path

in memory of the long line 

of strong women

who walked here before me,

and in honour of the long line 

of strong women

who will walk here after me,

in a passage of time that is timeless,

in a circle of love that is endless:

grandmother after grandmother,

footsteps walking in footsteps,

heart upon heart.

Wherever you come from,

a long line of strong women

survived the impossible

so that you might live.

Never forget,

"you come from the love

of thousands."

source

for Carrie's prompt at The Sunday Muse and the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.