My Grandmother's House

The news blares bright and gaudy. Full of fear and sound.

yet in the warmth of my grandmothers living room

golden light filtering 

through her paisley curtains 

it feels 

far

away

and my grandmother places her weathered hand over mine and says 

do not be afraid of the guns or bombs or hatred

no terror to the terrorists

in my day it was just the same

just another baited hook

just a different group of people

to fear

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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