Grandpa

CATEGORY

life

a kind face with skin leathery and creased
from years of working in the sun

long jowls like a basset hounds
sad droplet eyes
always a slight aroma of beer

brown wrinkly callous palms and dirt stained finger nails
were evidence of an old man’s toil

a blue plaid shirt
now ashen from wear
and reliable hand wringing in wash board tubs

a tall man
always unshaven with scrapes of gray hair
that would scratch you un-mercifully
if he asked for a hug

he walked with shoulders hung and bowed over

as if broken

that of a man who had known the burdens of inequality

all his life

the kindness in his eyes reflected a graceful acceptance

of his fate

his tears masked a rage and unforgiveness

for the destiny of his children

late afternoons he would sit out yonder
under a huge black gum tree

cotton fields and stretches of green patch
as far as one could see
all the way down
to that red clay dirt road

two long belly cows grazed
down where a wire fence
with some missing and bent posts
stood barely staking the land

a blackened wood briar pipe
a pack of red man chewing tobacco
and a can of snuff beside him

one jaw always popped out
as the tobacco had to sit just long enough
before it was time
to spit

he would sit in that shaded spot
for hours on end
up till sunset most days

always staring intently at something out there

was it memories from his past
or perhaps the dreams of a past that someone stole

eventually grandma would call out to him

Henry where you be?

he would always reply

after awhile

I’m just there….

I never understood what that meant before

Until now