Honoring My Ancestors, a poem by Krysia Pytlik Oxmind at Spillwords.com

Honoring My Ancestors

Honoring My Ancestors

written by: Krysia Pytlik Oxmind

 

The list of possible hoards endless-
spoons, old letters, glass bottles.
Among trusted friends,
I blurted out that I had
five gallons of oil
and could do with no less.
I heard gasps.
It was when I stood in my pantry,
jars of virgin and extra virgin oil
lined in neat rows,
that I saw the dark shadows
hiding behind the green bottles.
I can’t feed my grandmother’s children,
torn from their beloved Poland,
shuttled to a frozen Siberia,
in that rattling cow cart.
No matter how much food I buy,
their shadows huddle in my pantry
warning me there may not be enough
“Never stop bringing food,
Never stop”.

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