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My grandma sits shaking in her
Rocking chair, rocking.
Ten minutes ago, she got news that her mother died.
She had seen her earlier that day.
Sometimes things that you can't control
Are the absolute worst. Very rarely are they great.
Sometimes I wish I could take the wishes
From children with their shiny pennies.
Sometimes people cry over loss
And tears just need to fall in episodes of
Trembling, and shaking bones.
Because sometimes being strong is not enough.
Sometimes the rockers on chairs that rock,
They squeak. And maybe it's because
Sometimes those rockers get tired of being strong.
They get tired of being silent.
Sometimes you see things that you
Wish would stop replaying in your head.
Sometimes you hear abstract words
That just never leave the inside of your ears.
Sometimes when people grieve,
They get so wrapped up in who they lose
That sometimes they lose themselves.
My grandmother will not lose herself.
I have always known that
No matter what happens, she will
Always tell me to follow her footsteps and be strong,
I can't imagine being strong if she were gone.