Tuesday, March 01, 2022

Gee

Under the frangipani tree
Next to indestructible yellow Fiat
We sat akimbo on the white chairs
The plants and flowers resplendent
My childhood garden of Eden
And every day we talked properly

After the earlier hours of yard work
Under her close supervision
And the carefree play and homework
On our return from Auntie Becky's
Fortified with kelewele and ground nuts
The ginger drinks, her secret recipe
Go get me a beer, then we can talk properly

And so we talked, we talked properly
We traded stories, we talked constantly
We laughed, oh how we laughed, she teased mercilessly
Loud, no one could ignore her, we argued frantically
Yet no grudges could be borne, we fought messily
There was only her warmth, she loved easily
The plants, the warmth, the talk, we talked properly

I was the one who named her plain old Gee
In response, she would call out my name repeatedly
Savor it as she brought out the family history
The lore that we celebrated, and the mysteries
Those fragments and markers that made up our identity
The bitter roots were never shirked, they were part of the lessons
In Gee's house we probed, for there were no unanswered questions
This is what lingers apart from the faded photos and the memories
Her warmth, the plants, the talk, we talked properly


In memoriam: Goody Okyne

goody-garden-2

gee flowers

goody-garden

gee garden flower

Songs for Gee


Four stanzas is the least I could do. Let's place this under the banner of Social Living

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Writing log: March 13, 2021

1 comment:

Fran said...

The nostalgia is razor sharp, vivid, painful, and glorious. Heartbreaking and beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes.