What Does Grace
What, I wonder,
does grace look like.
Then I see
the leaves of the ficus,
dripping morning sunlight.
And oh, forgiveness,
does it have a feel?
As I pass beneath
magenta bougainvillea,
blossoms bathe the bareness of my arm.
Mercy, oh, I remember.
It carries the scent
of my Grandmother’s skin,
her bathing powder,
lily-of-the-valley.
Could patience
have a taste?
Yes, it must be morning oatmeal,
rich with raisins and
steaming in the bowl.
Love, then. Does it sound?
Long ago when my little boy
gazed up at me,
from somewhere I would hear
a lullaby caress my ears.
©Susa Silvermarie 2025
So beautiful, Susa!