Thank You, Grandma

I rise from the ashes of your whispered prayers,
woven in the silver strands of moonlight,
bathed in the incense of your love
your hands, sculptors of my becoming,
etched wisdom into my bones—
the marrow of resilience, the sinew of devotion

I hear your voice in the rustling palms,
your laughter in the ocean’s hymn,
your breath in the hush before dawn
Grandmother, oracle, healer, flame—
you anointed me in the sacred rivers
of your knowing,
baptized me in the glow of stars
that once crowned your brow

You taught me to dance in fire,
to sip honey from the thorns,
to uncoil the serpent within
and let it spiral toward divinity
Through your eyes, I saw the altar
of my own body—
a temple, a throne, a universe unfolding

Now I stand, spine kissed by the sun,
dripping in the nectar of remembrance
I wear your name like gold-threaded silk,
your prayers like jewels on my tongue
with every breath, I rise—
glistening, radiant, whole

Thank you, Grandmother,
for the gift of my own becoming–

Copyright © 2025 Sherley Delia | All rights reserved.