A little poem on December 5 2018

A little poem 

By Merita McCormack
December 5 , 2018

Oh irony of life ! 

Cage was the place the bird was born
In the cage it was raised
It sang and cried though from within
And one day the good master heard it
And said : "Who keeps this bird locked "?
Oh Irony of life ! 

And then the good master got the tools
Told the cage keeper a word or two
The cage keeper pretended to agree
And let the good master set the bird free

But little did the bird know
What was attached to his foot and wings
Thus the bird flew and the good master used his voice;
Showed it around and took pride on him
The bird chirped, sang , and one day
Was sad to see the master die. 

Then the cage keeper showed up
Smiling , holding hands with others like him,
And said to the bird with the smirk:
"It was just a game , little bird ,
We just wanted some time
To gather more birds
So we tracked you and others and now not only we want your talents
but we want also your meat "
And thus the cage keeper "mourned " the good master's death
While preparing for upcoming meal
Oh irony of life !
Oh poor bird indeed !

A Poem for my Grandmother

On her birthday---

She was petite and almost invisible,
just like the modern Saint
she was sweet but matter of fact,
just like any wise woman
she was quiet, but had a presence
just like some important beloved figure
she was not taught to read or write
yet she was our lead accountant
who always balanced the family books
she never had a fridge , yet her food never went bad
she saved it in cool places dug in the yard's dirt
she never went to culinary school
but her meals were most delicious
she never used measuring cups
but her handful was good enough
she never checked the temperature of baked stuff
she knew when it was done from its tenderness
her daily and on time meals always tasted delightful
she was the smallest woman whose husband was sick
yet she managed the whole household
like she had the help of many hercules
she never went to medical school
but the whole village thought her medicine healed
she never went to any fancy counseling school
but her much sought advice kept couples and families together
she never wore colorful clothing as she was in mourning
having lost a young son, a brother and soon enough her husband
but she displayed the radiant multiple colors in her being
she never showed her thick hair as the widows scarf covered it,
but she gave me the braided hair of her youth to treasure
she never knew of the Western culture
but the moment she met someone she knew the Truth
she gave strength to others like she was a fountain of it
and never got tired of hosting others, humbly and lovingly
she knew communism was evil but taught us to hold tight
to things that matter like family and ride the waves
she knew it was just politics
all temporary but family unity she said is everlasting in spirit
she was called Ane, Halle , Teze and Jengje in the village
but she was mostly our glue, our dearest Nena
whose name is now in my daughter's being
and I pray that my little one takes at least just a bit
after my beloved Nena, who was my first teacher, carer,
doctor, my beloved saintly grandmother
who always remains in my heart and mind
whose smile reminded me of the most beautiful flower.

She was born 103 years ago today and I miss her .
Nena I miss you!

Poem by Merita B. McCormack
25 August 2018