blossomfully:
Sue Zhao
[id: Hong Kong
When I didn’t know how to live
I became my grandmother:
opening windows in the morning
early enough to see the light
sifting between the curtains, I
swept the floor with a bamboo broomstick
and made breakfast.
And in my head came her raspy
voice and her soft voice and her
quiet voice; which rarely laughed but was
always delighted with living and
eighty years of reticent habits
cultivated by her small hands.
She had not always been loved, so
she knew all about love.
And on days which were longer and longer still,
on returning home to an empty apartment
in that spectacular city - her voice
emanated like bells.
You must be hungry, she said, looking over
at what I was cooking. And I laid my head
in the lap of her voice, nodding.
I am, I am. /end]