Sestina Poem

Grandmother

Reaching with her gentle arms,

she brushed against my round face.

We organized picked flowers at the table

from the garden that sat in the back.

Always within her sight,

I ran through the yard, feeling its pull.

 

On the swing, she would push and pull,

and I would flail my arms.

I was in awe of the sight,

the wind streaming across my face.

She grabbed my waist and pulled me back.

We raced back to the table.

 

Still sat the old wooden table

and I waited for lunch but had to pull

it close. The chair pressed against my back.

She reached forward and I grabbed her arms

to pull them close and we turned to face

the dark thunderstorm sight.

 

The rain poured down and blurred our sight

and she tapped her fingers on the table

to the rhythm of rain. My face

streaked with tears and she reached to pull

me away from my greatest fear. Her arms

reached forward and wrapped around to my back.

 

She let go and ran outside. I screamed for her to come back.

Running through the house, she still wasn’t in sight.

I jumped up and down and waved my arms

trying to make her see me. I climbed up on to the table

and waved more. At last I saw her, trying to pull

herself up on the swing. Rain danced on her face.

 

I put my coat on the ground to face

upside down. With a flip, I ran out with my back

towards the calm inside. Too cautious, I tried to pull

clear of trees. I look up at the looming clouds, to see a sight

of lighting strike the earth. I thought of saying at the table.

She smiled brightly through the grey, looking up towards the sky and raising her arms.

 

I looked up again to see the many shades of darkness that from then on, I no longer feared.