my lola

Every wrinkle and every line has a story.
At 83 she has lived.
Through a world war to personal spiritual wars, she has survived.
Given birth to not only 8 children, but 100 grandchildren and 100 more great grandchildren.
She is a mother of the leysons, a mother of Leyte.

She lays in bed, covering whats left of her.
Shy and embarresed of her skin and bones.
She speaks in bisia, if only i could understand.
No one is there to translate. But i listen as she talks.
I'm fustrated with the communication barrier but am content watching her speak.

She pinches my skin, rubs my belly, smells my hair and touches my croutch.
She held me as a child, bathed me, sang to me and kissed me when i was born.
She does the same at 19.
Her warmth wraps around me.

Lola was a wife,
Shes a mother, Grandmother and Great Grandmother.
She has a story that i will never know or appreciate,
But i do know, how much i love her.