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Again

in Gun Violence by

When they came for my grandmother
she was a child and living in Germany.
But she crossed an ocean, left her home behind.
She would never see her parents again.

When she was a child, she lived in Heidelberg.
She remembers the Neckar River and the trees.
She never saw her parents again.
She is 97 years old now, curled in bed.

She remembers the Neckar River and the trees.
She remembers to never forget.
Now she is 97 years old, curled in bed;
I turn off the news of the shooting.

How could she ever forget?
She crossed an ocean, left her home behind.
I turn off the news of the shooting.
They came for my grandmother.

 


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Tasha Graff lives and writes on the coast of Maine. Her poetry has appeared in such publications as THRUSH Poetry Journal, From the Fishouse, and Yale Journal for the Humanities. She is a public high school teacher.

Photo by Alessandro Vallainc.