This Woman, One Of Earth's Greatest Grand Mothers.


This woman,

one of Earth's greatest Grandmother


Behind the sepia tones
in the rectangle above
that formed the shadow, and light
so long ago projected,
into an image of yesteryear heroes,
lies the visage of one of
earth's greatest Grandmothers.

She was a duster, a truster
a cusser and a bustler,
a rock buster, and a luster
for the good life, on her own land.

Alas she wound up under a cluster
of weathered stones marking
the last stop in her pil"grim"age west
with emphasis on the word grim.

Long past the bone jarring Conestoga,
and the back breaking raising of a home,
and the flesh rending
expulsion of six babies, and
two miscarriages, and then the
small pox that marked a large hole
in some early settlers loves, and lives.

Leaving only this humble photo of one
who I know sleeps somewhere
unheralded and forgotten
in the prairie dust
In that prairie dust
lie the remnants of this woman,
just one of many prairie women
who struggled and fought,
all the odds only to become
the same dust of which she tried
so hard to scratch out a living from.

Sweeping it from
the rough wooden floors
of her homespun cabin,
and cooking it's gifts,
from the labors of her tilling
all those fresh vegetables,
that stubbornly yielded barely enough
to wipe the hungry looks
from her children's faces.

This toil hardened face
that saw so much,
and found so little
in the way of dreams
being fulfilled,
now sleeps peacefully
in a crumbling pine box,
her dust mingling with the land
she tried so desperately to tame,
her soul in the arms of God's care now,
and her flesh a part of the land
she grew to love to hate.

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