Sleep deepens, bending decades,
And here is my grandmother's
kitchen --
I am a child again, and
It is just as it was, where
She stands at her table
In a flowered dress with its
Necessary apron, punching
Down dough for bread in her
Consummate way --
And my small heart overflows.
I'm softly humming,
This Little Light of Mine.
She turns around and
I don't know if I'm
Looking at Grandmother
or God.
They are the same to me.
When I prayed as a small girl,
She answered them and dried
My tears with what felt like
miracles.
I would stay here,
Dreambound, if I could,
And hug her waist
For the rest of time --
