I Will Never Forget Her

 

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Beauty has no boundaries, no rules, no colors. Beauty is like a religion. You can include everything inside it. ~  Alessandro Michele  

My grandparents had a colored maid, at least that was the expression my Grandpaw used.  At the time, I thought she was older but I realize now, I was wrong. I am certain she was an old soul though.  She came twice a week to do what my Grandmaw couldn’t. She had a down to earth way about her, and had 7 kids, a husband that wouldn’t work, and no car.  She would take the bus and walk from the corner stop.  She had her own small closet in the dinette area, changed her shoes and put on an apron with pockets and began the many chores expected of her. All the while, she would hum and she always sang like there wasn’t a care in the world.  Her name was Miss Jesse, and she was beautiful in every way.  I once asked her why she was black and her face lighted up like a soft lamp as she said, “child, God made some of us black and some of us white".

I will never forget her.

There was more than one layer she wore of the truest beauty.

Each flowed around her like a scarves in storm’s way.

And she carried them all close enough

but also gave them as ribboned gifts

to her children and to their children’s children.

Diamonds that sparkle and coals that warm like seasons within her eyes

except winter,

that she saved for just one man.

That bitter cold is why she learned to be tough!

Something she never wanted or planned on

but hunger drives us to climb, hunt, and borrow.

So, she became a totem of strength;

tall with a certain might that only the bearers of true burdens know.

Callused hands from scrubbing

 and a heavy heart from deeper worries,

yet she chose to love like a mother to the whole world

with a voice that was always lovely.

Her boys were her deepest of prayers

 and they were her inkwell of something more

upon a page like a scripture.

She memorized and sang them all by name

until they were as known to Heaven as the most worn page in a hymnal.