Granny

Granny, 

I watched you for 15 years. 

Sweat on forehead. 

And Boiling pots of greens on the stove all while juggling 

6 children and 

10 Grand children 

in your bosom. 

I watched you bend your back but never break at the seams, 

you wrote the definition of Classy. However, in Tchula Mississippi 

you never attended classes. 

You were too busy dabbing your sweat with 

The fabric of our lives, 

no matter what the white 

people say. 

you dabbed your sweat 

with cotton from the fields.  

you were never a slave. 

But, the cruelty of Madea 

left you 

in scorching suns & bare foot. 

Her anger left you fear shook. 

   

 I remember the story of her almost making strange fruit out of you.

Fear in my ears listening to you, 

my heart stood on its 

tippy toes in standing ovation 

of you. 

Your the only black that escaped a noose

 already tied around their neck by one who was their same 

black. 

Blue. 

You. 

     You, taught me to 

never see color cause 

your first love was

 black as a oil slick. 

You called him Willy. 

Willy didn't care you

 had my momma at 14 

by a yella man. 

My papas name is 

Jack. 

Sunshine for short 

of making it shine in the 

mid night hour, 

you taught me color is 

never important. 

    That in love, to be color blind.

     Jack, 

as Indian as he is, 

he loved you & his baby girl like

 he loved his Salt pork collared greens & whiskey. 

        

Chicago made your country hearts as city as my sin. 

Papa called me sin city, 

cause my daddy named me 

Jazz. 

Mamma told me you 

never approved of my father but, 

you never disapproved of my existence. 

     For 11 years I was the 

only girl in those last 

18 years to have the 

Malone blood, 

my daddy in spite named me 

Brooks. 

You wanted me to have your last name so the world could have someone to remember you by but, my name doesn't have to change to have that happen. 

      When your dead and gone,

 this world will remember you from the swivel in my hips, 

the holy in my tong and 

the yellow in my skin. 

      This world will know, that 

Louise 

Is not my Grandmother but, 

my Granny 

cause you walked with a lean 

you blamed on your arthritis but, 

I refused to believe cause you 

were too cool to wear orthopedic shoes. 

   They'll know you're my Granny from touching my arms. 

All the women in our family got them "wings," are what you called them. 

        Granny, 

 I admire every ball of sweat that never 

fell to the floor cause you were too strong to let any part of you 

fall. 

You always bend but never break. You resemble a palm tree. 

Always swaying from side to side but always strong enough to with stand the strength of any storm. 

      Granny, you taught me how to dance in the rain cause I'm a woman, we always bounce 

back no matter how bad the pain,  

We always bend but 

WE

never. Ever. Break.