Granny Whitman

Granny Whitman


On New World trails
Constant with getting and got,
You may not remember me,
I passed you walking by
But not without smiling.
Didn't you see me laughing?
Waving my encouragement?
While you can't recall
My face, I still expect
Main things from you,
I was the one singing
To herself, quick to caring
When it mattered most.

I am that mirror reflecting
You as you will be- on the move,
Robust, friendly, knowing
When a soul needs nurturing.
Be cheerful, buoyant
Even though in pain,
Accepting of mistakes.
Of intimacy, love, truth,
These are the ingredients
Of our passions' brew,
The colors of a risky
Metaphor; the wondrous liquor
Of our essence brewing.
Be in love with life,
Continually on the verge,
Learn to fly even as you walk,
Experiment, No is the catalyst
Of regret, bitterness
The great spoiler.

In us all the seed
Of what we fear the most
Spit in the palm of your hand.
Roll up your sleeves.
Get down to work, knowing
There is nothing about you
That is not bearable.
You are my pot boiling.

In the mirror of yourself,
I see my reflection shinning.
You are my hope growing.
Tumultuous with promise,
Deserving of praise.

Scott Malby

Posted over on Ygdrasil Journal