B. Goodjoin (2018)
I heard my mother’s voice in mine, when I called to my son.
Don’t be late, there’s work to be done.
My father’s eyes were looking at me when I gazed into the mirror
Eyes that glowed with love, unless just cause made him much fiercer.
Grandmother had the gift of visions, which she passed on to me.
I know what you hide inside that you don’t want the world to see.
Recipe’s for cooking, passed from generations ago,
still have a place on the table and we always ask for more.
Though generations have lived, and generations have died,
we continue to embrace each other with memories, inside…
Beating hearts and thinking minds that carry love like a shield.
Generations that were founded with determination and steel.
Generations that continue to prosper and to grow,
Generations that carry old love everywhere we may go.