Journey of a Blind Grandmother, Ending

    “Journey of a Blind Grandmother, Ending,” Ensign, Mar. 1978, 43

    Journey of a Blind Grandmother, Ending

    Second Place All-Church Poetry Contest

    Growing old, I hear bees

    (Or is it light?)—

    I hear buzzing bees.

    Outside of my hands there is light,

    I remember—purple dragonflies

    Turning a thousand pointed mirrors,

    Golden buttercups refracted by rain,

    My mother’s shadowy hands on my brow.

    Shadows like those hands cover my eyes, A dark rippling silk

    Drawing inner circles of sun

    Where the buttercups wake

    Along the smooth crevas

    Of my mind behind

    A smoky lens that breaks light,

    Makes geometry of the sun.

    Suddenly a shadowy angel

    Draws circles, draws me in

    Where I may sleep

    And wake

    And, for the first time,


    Photography by Annabella Laird