The old man

Sat sunk in his armchair

His bald-head boasted

A few gray hair

His weather-beaten jowl face

Spoke of numerous summers

His bent back a mute testimony

Of life spent gainfully and frugally

Saving for his family.

His toothless mouth

Sported a mischievous smile

His gray brows thick and bushy

Upheld his broad but lined forehead

His aquiline nose snorted when agitated

The twinkle in his eyes bespoke

Good humor with specks of iron

Maintaining authority when required.

Beloved of all his family

He commanded love with respect

And upheld justice just like his

Suspenders upheld his pants

His spare frame sheathed in all white

His constant vigil a search for the one

Who had already crossed over

Passing from this life to the next

Now he lived one day at a time

Happily and peacefully biding his time,

Living from moment to moment

Enjoying the grandchildren

Telling never ending stories n anecdotes

Pulled out of his bottomless treasure-chest

Till the final journey.

A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, “I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one. The grandson asked him, Which wolf will win the fight in your heart? The grandfather answered, The one I feed.
Anonymous, As told in Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes


One Comment for: “Grandpa”

  1. lovely website bina! really makes your poetry shine…congrats! xoc

    Submitted by Chitra on September 15th, 2007 12:48 pm

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