Just as trees and flowers grow 

on soft supple earth,

grandma’s womb birthed

entire generations. 

A lineage that stretches

across her spine,

to engraved itself at

the bottom of her feet. 

Like vines, the veins on 

her hands told a story,

and with them, 

she created history.



Yet she still lives. 



She lives in the children 

she took care of,

She lives in the memories

of those she touched,

She lives in our hearts,

In love,

In life. 

She rebirths each time

the family extends.

She comes at dawn,

when the sun breaks 

the nights sky—

just to remind us

which one comes first.

Since night comes 

before the day,

then today we rejoice. 

Because her journey 

of light has just begun.

| A tribute to my great grandmother, Maman Kota |

| 22/06/1937–17/09/2020 |








Photo: Pinterest

Posted by:A'Isha Adams

Mind of a frantic poet. Ambition of an entrepreneur. The heart of an old soul.

5 replies on “Grandma’s Hands.