On maternal grandpa’s side, the chaos is so pronounced
That yearly their progress reports in courts they announce.
Now, let’s glide over to my maternal grandmother –
Though gone few years back, her memory remains fresh as ever.
My bonding with her started from birth;
Hers has been the first familiar faces on earth.
If idolatry is allowed, her statue would take
A prominent place in my heart – nothing in her was fake.
After divorce, she got remarried to a gentleman:
A Methodist minister, a true friend and husband.
Grandma was beautiful, in and out, got a skin
Most women envy, pay millions for but never get the sheen.
Just as her physique drew people to her;
She kept you glued most with her inner character.
We all adored our grandma – my mother, siblings and I;
On her back I ran from the war which saw my sister die.
Yes, I learnt I had a three-year-old sister
And my birth cry mingled with salvos of the big shooter.
My father was in the city, his brother
Refused to leave with grandma and mother.
He was a repository to our inheritance
And to some haters he was a real hindrance.
When the war hotted up, he left our blazing town
And joined his haters who, with poison, cut him down.
My father’s brother escaping the soldiers’ guns,
Fled to meet those who held against him some wrongs.
They removed the hurdle aware the war would end;
They’d return – deals on grandpa’s wealth their signatures append.
From time to time kinsfolk would quarrel:
In every episode the truth did unravel.
TO BE CONTINUED.