Františka
Great Grandmother
How to convey
The yearning …
How we long to talk …
To know that you lived until Nineteen Ninety Three
And that we could have known you …
- If we could only let you know that,
We found you,
We found our way back …
We found you in the negative spaces.
Through your losses …
Abandoned,
By your husband …
Your child killed by Nazis …
-Your other child imprisoned by Communists …
Exiled …
Your grandchildren sent away …
Never to be seen again.
Your dignity …
The simple words
You uttered,
At your son’s trial …
How you kept your counsel.
The tears you shed on the Railway Platform
Your grave …
The last place your physical being connected with the earth.
The pain and sorrow you must have harboured
In moments of quiet.
-Like the ones I sit in to write of you
-To you …
While the sun takes its time going down
We are not yet in the height of Summer …
We continue to stitch the threads of your life together …
In our mind’s eye,
Gathering up the pieces of you …
The anecdotes and photographs …
Your laughter with your sister at the wedding …
An aged and reassuring hand upon the head of a fine old dog.
-This mutual recognition …
-As you sit in pleasant conversation between your daughter and granddaughter in the haze of a sleepy afternoon.
We travel back in time further still …
Eva’s laughter, the chatter of girls sleeping over after school coming from the next room.
Happiness where it is to be found.
Life goes on.
The photo of your children in the frame looks back at you long after they are grown.
Coats buttoned and belted against the cold.
Ears covered, hands pocketed.
Darling little Květa cradles her teddy bear.
Your eldest boy with a hand upon her shoulder
Confronts you with his gaze.
Not at all unloving, but perhaps a little sad, a little serious …
Everything was different then.
You could bundle them up.
Keep them safe.
Time
Distance
Separation
Could never erode such instincts,
Nor break the ties that bind.
I don’t know why it is we have come so late,
Too late …
Too late to look upon your face and hold you in our arms …
Too late to converse into the twilight hours.
Why has this happened now?
The blood of your son
Returned …
Restored …
Like your father you manned the station
The house
You filled with your vitality and strength.
A beacon for your absent sons
Until your light went out …
Now we have come …
Enfolding the spirit of our grandfather, his brother, our mother, and all who have made us.
We make it to the edge of the forest
With sunlight bursting through.
Eva opens the door in your stead
Welcoming and glad as you would have been.
She invites us in.
By Robyn Hunt
In Honour of a Beloved Grandmother and Great Grandmother
- IF YOU ENJOYED THE POEM, HAVE A LISTEN TO A READING OF IT, JUST CLICK ON THE LITTLE ARROW.
