My face was blank

When I looked in the mirror I saw brown eyes and pale skin

I would wake early to paint character on my face

Blue hues for my eyes and pink for my lips

Cut my auburn hair into trendy lobs and style with ribbons

My vanity was interrupted by an earthquake in my mind

Things that used to hang on the walls of my consciousness fell and shattered

The strongholds of reality crumbled

“She’s dead”

Words that in novels mean hardly nothing and in movies mean even less

But this wasn't storyline prepared by a clever man with an ironic mustache

This was my grandma

The woman who made tea too sweet

The friendly face that would let me trace her wrinkles while she read

The free spirit that would paint walls cherry red then a day later forest green

The voice that always reminded me that I was her “angel face”

So the funeral past...

The tears stopped flowing...

The city in my mind began to rebuild

But new beauty began to grow and my reflection mended better than before

I wasn’t composed only of pale skin and brown eyes

I was the reflection of my grandmas youth

Her strong jawline, her playful smirk, her powerful cheekbones

I decided then to reincarnate all her goodness in me

No longer did I wake to paint character on my face

The greatest character of all was shining through me all along


This poem is about: 
My family


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