She placed my hands on her face
And told me
” One day yours will be the same, it is earned ,
so baby please always hold your own in as gentle regard…. as you are mine now”
I have relived that moment each time growing older as I would look in the mirror and dare hate myself…I would see my grandmother looking at me,
And I could no longer feel disgust.
She would have me stand behind her and braid her long hair,
and In return she would place rollers in mine
A transference of love and beauty.
She would tell me how beautiful I was when I woke and took those spongy pink rollers out,
and then I would take her braids out and reciprocate the compliment…
This is key to the self love I have now…..do you see the beauty in another?
O you must , if you are to ever love yourself.
She showed me
Homemade dinners and quiet…
(Because my own home was loud and violent)
She wrote music and sang to me as she played her guitar
Was my Grandmother
After her death 29 years ago…I write with hands similar…I sing too loudly
My black hair is her black hair and I’m wearing her face
She was the nurturer of the way ward and my light in the dark
That is the tradition felt and embraced ….given
© Copyright, Lela Cintron 2015
Response to our Inspiration Call on October 10, 2015
Photo Credit: © Pixabay/Public Domain/Royalty Free Photos
Categories: Featured Writer's