My Grandma died last weekend, and I attended her services just the other day. It was sad to see her go, she was a strong woman and loved by all, with never a bad word to say to anyone. It was amazing how positive her outlook on life was; despite growing up in poverty and in conditions that would be deemed substandard in todays era of modern conveniences, she always appreciated the simple and lasting beauty of nature and family, was not bound to the empty trappings of materialism and always ready to share of herself with those she met and those she loved. She has always been an inspiration and will be forever missed and always remembered.
I was conversing with my sister and cousins about the differences between our generation and hers. It is truly remarkable to think that she grew up in a rural setting with no electricity for many years, had a water well to pump only cold water for many years, and had no indoor plumbing until she was in her thirties. And her grandchildren live in an era where everything is so technologically advanced and we have grown so accustomed to this technology that we are almost clueless what to do without it...
The rise of the machines...this brave new world...
But which of us if any is a master of the innerverse?
As we trample lives in our destructive path in our quest to
be masters of the universe...
I remember a question she posed to me once of a rather philosophical note...
After seeing the big city lights and the network of highways and "free"ways and the congestion of traffic during gridlock...
"Where are all these people going, why are they in such a rush?" a simple question no doubt, with a simple answer perhaps, but one that does not adrress the real issue
As King George has said "American's are addicted to Oil..."
or is it Carbon Monoxide?
While I was honouring my Grandmother I drifted into a rant...
I will finish with two poems that I read at her service, the first one that she wrote and the second is one that I wrote...
A Summer Morn
The breathless beauty of a summer morn
When stilness is everywhere
When the Zephyr wind is still asleep
And from the nests you hear no peep
Then I know I am in Heaven
When the daisies paint the meadows snow white
And never close their eyes, even at night
And buttercups add sunshine to the scene
Now I wonder is this only a dream?
The Sun has arrived to brighten our day
When nary a leaf is at stir, neither on lilac nor willow
Or nary a bird a flutter
And the sound from the forest is a hush
Then we know that the dawn of our day is here
The Sound of Night
I asked for a dream, a passage of time
There between dark and light
From beneath the sound of night
Lifes visions shining in bloom
Winter cold, cloud and snow,
I must hibernate
My want is to wait,
But they never come
Soft morning dawn
Was beautiful to remember
As Music promised to the sky above
We shall live through change
Like some universal language
In loving memory
I was conversing with my sister and cousins about the differences between our generation and hers. It is truly remarkable to think that she grew up in a rural setting with no electricity for many years, had a water well to pump only cold water for many years, and had no indoor plumbing until she was in her thirties. And her grandchildren live in an era where everything is so technologically advanced and we have grown so accustomed to this technology that we are almost clueless what to do without it...
The rise of the machines...this brave new world...
But which of us if any is a master of the innerverse?
As we trample lives in our destructive path in our quest to
be masters of the universe...
I remember a question she posed to me once of a rather philosophical note...
After seeing the big city lights and the network of highways and "free"ways and the congestion of traffic during gridlock...
"Where are all these people going, why are they in such a rush?" a simple question no doubt, with a simple answer perhaps, but one that does not adrress the real issue
As King George has said "American's are addicted to Oil..."
or is it Carbon Monoxide?
While I was honouring my Grandmother I drifted into a rant...
I will finish with two poems that I read at her service, the first one that she wrote and the second is one that I wrote...
A Summer Morn
The breathless beauty of a summer morn
When stilness is everywhere
When the Zephyr wind is still asleep
And from the nests you hear no peep
Then I know I am in Heaven
When the daisies paint the meadows snow white
And never close their eyes, even at night
And buttercups add sunshine to the scene
Now I wonder is this only a dream?
The Sun has arrived to brighten our day
When nary a leaf is at stir, neither on lilac nor willow
Or nary a bird a flutter
And the sound from the forest is a hush
Then we know that the dawn of our day is here
The Sound of Night
I asked for a dream, a passage of time
There between dark and light
From beneath the sound of night
Lifes visions shining in bloom
Winter cold, cloud and snow,
I must hibernate
My want is to wait,
But they never come
Soft morning dawn
Was beautiful to remember
As Music promised to the sky above
We shall live through change
Like some universal language
In loving memory
You already know what I think of 'The Sound of Night' and if find your Grandmother's poem to be very beautiful too. They go together very well, as the sense of easy optimism is prominent throughout both poems. It's a lovely memorial.
I hope you are bearing up at this sad time.