Tuesday, March 8, 2011

"The apple of her eye..."

I'm sure she
said it
lightly,
without
the kind of
meaning that
a young girl
attaches to
a simple string
of
words shared by a
beautiful grandmother
who she loves
more than
the small woman
with sparkling eyes
and gentle voice
imagines.

But I did.

I took it and
held on
to its promise
with all
my being.

A little girl
who thought
just perhaps
she was larger than
she'd always
assumed,
if,
in fact,
she really was...

the apple of her eye...

year
after
year...

a vision
to believe in,
a hope so full of
promise,

a promise full of
hope.

could she really be
the fruit of
her vision.

Could she really
be the seed
within itself.
bursting from
her grandmother's
love for
others and
a world
so in need of
love.

"You,
my sweet girl,
are,
the apple of my eye."

"the
apple
of
my
eye."

Oh, grandmother
I want to be
who you have
always
thought I could be

I want to make a difference...

to
feed a world
with something nourishing,
to nurture
peace,
to
sweeten moments of
despair,
and
to salvage what
seems to
have dropped
from
the branches of
its high
estate
among the
heavens
and for
your
glory...

to be
"the apple of
your eye."

so if you
didn't really mean it

I don't really want to
know...

your words
gave a young
girl,
a
reason
to
be...

...to be
me.

the apple of
my grandmother's
eye.


[photo credit: Hollister Thomas 2009]

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