Poems My Grandmother Taught Me


Oh, tell me not that I am cold, aloof.
It is the only shield that I can wear.
The gay, sweet laughter, badge of all of youth,
Is gone, with only numbness there.
How can it be? The lovely things we planned
Slipping through my fingers. As they go,
My life seem like a sieve that’s sifting sand.
And now in such a quiet way I know
Peace comes to those who seek and wait.
A still and lonely peace all shorn of hate.

~Dana B. Nelson