Constance La France Poet Free verse

Notes About The Poem

Her Name Was Helena

grandma never knew her name until she was an adult
and it was Helena (some kind of birth certificate mix up) 
she embraced her new found name
it was lovely sliding off the lips like a waterfall
later, she found her Ojibwe roots 
and I hear the drums of my ancestors in my heart beating
grandma was our family storyteller
      she fascinated me and sparked my imagination
        I would watch her lips as she spoke
           how her voice changed
               how her facial expressions changed
I never grew tired of listening to her stories
stories told over and over until her death of people and places
nothing was written down
they died with her. . . I think that was meant to be
      grandma had given me a book
        a journal for my small girl thoughts
           and told me-  write it, write it 
             write it, for the world to know
so I did, I wrote in my room stories about my cat and flowers
in time, I wrote of my sadness that made grandma cry
       I had a gift just like Helena   
          I was a storyteller but in words
             a poet was born
                in a old attic room
                   I was lost in a sea of emotions
everyday over tea I would read my words for Helena,
I was able to pour my heart and soul on paper
my skill grew with me like a cool rippling stream
the drums of time ceased 
for my Helena and I wrote and read her eulogy
my heart swelled with a sea of tears
then, I heard weeping echoing in the church
within the stained glass window glow
and I knew then that I had a power
      Helena's gift... I had inherited
         because of her I am a writer
            the bond between us a delicate flower 
              and she had said to this sad little girl
                find the sweetness in the dregs of sorrow
                   for life is a lighted window and a closed door
_________________________
August 3, 2019


Poetry/Free Verse/Her Name Was Helena
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1122-142-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

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Constance La France March 8, 2019 at 9:27 AM Grandma actually, told me to.. write it, write it, Dear Heart for the world to know." that was her sweet name for me and my nom de plume (pen name) as a poet writer.