milky way illustration

Photo by Philippe Donn on

Remember the back of your grandmother's hands, 
her life, a wrinkle of lines

your mother’s mother
burst forth from stars 
through radio waves, 
and rebellion 
to meet you

In her time, 
bombs created constellations 
then fell in formation around her heart
Decades of war cast shadows on her bones 
but from them she forged a future 

You turn her hands over in your mind,
tracing your fingers over the paths in her palms
back to when she held you 
back to a familiar world

Pressed against her bosom 
she healed your skinned knees with 
unwavering love
fed you cookies and dreams, 
and whispered your worries away.

In this new unknown, 
you call to the heavenly realms for a sign from her
you beg for a light of hope, 
but this void remains starless

the two of you have done your work
you must go it alone
this is your war

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