Grandma’s perfume.

I never perceived her living
or did we cross paths like far stars.
I hear she lives inside of me
through our Grandfather before us.

They said Grandma bathed with flaws
inside of her pots lived wisdom.
Her hands were fertile to beatings,
her ways could straighten Devil’s son.

If when she speaks then rain would fall
from their own eyes or somewhere else.
Till she died, none lost her bible.
Even in death, we fear her soul.

Grandma left us her big perfume,
When sprinkled it reveals our fear.
Fear for our God, fear for bad ways,
Fear that what is wrong, is just wrong.

Ruddapoet [TRCP]