What a Grandmother Carries

She strains to find her footing in orthopedic shoes my grandmother's clop-clop walk to me unbalanced steadied by a backbone of faith She bears a tattered, red carpet bag, solid wooden handles, worn like her marbled hands Grandma removes jam tarts and her Bible (smell enticing) to tutor me for my Sunday School verses, Psalm 23, that welds to memory Her diligence that I adhere to the lines despite my craven pull to tarts (a riveting obsession) Unfussy delight when I learn the verses Her glow, free floating, a small harp ovation Grandmother's carpet bag, stitched by history brimming with the sweet lure of baking upheld by her faith, like a pulse that hums devotion in a drawn body softly folding into itself Nothing can be swept aside when a grandma voices validation when generosity extends itself when her walk thaws the ground when words embroider love ensuring preservation Poem revised: April 25, 2021