I have been thinking of my grandmother
                      today
                      who died fifteen years ago
                      at almost ninety six,
                      mother
                      of six
                      and grandmother
                      of many.

                      Withered,
                      dessicated,
                      almost blind
                      and almost deaf,
                      and  yet
                      with a burning
                      fire for life
                      to the end .

                      She moved
                      in slow motion,
                      she sat in a corner,
                      thinking
                      and
                      incessantly knitting
                      patchwork blankets
                      for all.

                      Once
                      she needed help
                      in bathing,
                      and I leaned
                      and cleaned her toes
                      with the washcloth
                      one by one.
                      She was so happy:
                      "God bless you
                      my child"
                      she said

                      and that blessing
                      for such a minimal offer
                      humbles me
                      and
                      still resonates
                      on my genes.