MY GRANDFATHER’S LEGACY

My grandfather never knew

What a treasure he left

For me to find—I was born free

Of the invisible reins

And the perhaps unseen,

Though keenly felt, whip or spur

That forced so many girls

To lie in meadows of bitter grass

Along a road they did not choose

I have heard so many sad tales

Of invisible chains and torture

At the hands of the blind

In mind and heart

Tales of so many girls

Who grew perforce

Like mushrooms in the dark

With a taste bland, delicate

Bitter or poisonous

When plucked in the sun

But I have always known

What my grandfather taught

To the brothers of my mother:

Boys must not be allowed

To enjoy leisure at the expense

of a sister’s labor.

Games, thrills and challenges

dancing, melodies upon the air

or under the fingertips,

the pleasures of the written word

are gifts for all, not for boys alone.

We never met, my grandfather and I,

So he could not know of his legacy

Or see the mercy in his gift.