Why be a half-finished poem in some forgotten poet’s story, when one can be an odyssey in and of herself, part magic, part villain, part Goddess, par… - Nikita Gill

There is a knowing in her, she hears them say, that makes her untamable. She has known since she was a child that she is observant in a way that makes them uncomfortable.

You smell of death.
Everything about you
is an endless goodbye

Grandmothers are a gift not to be taken lightly. So many lose them, before they are old enough to know their magic. I am glad my bones were born with this knowledge. She taught me how to become a good ancestor. At least this - loving her presence, appreciating her wisdom - is something I know how to do well.