• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content

Blue Marble Review

Literary Journal for Young Writers

  • Home
  • About
    • Masthead
    • Contact
    • Donate
  • Issues
    • Covid Stories
  • FAQs
  • Submit

Grandfather

By Mara Magarahan

My mom says your body

Took its last breath when I was young,

And if it weren’t for the

Boxes of photographs

And presents that she says you

Gave me on my birthday

I wouldn’t have even remembered that you

Were once around me.

That your fingerprints were once

Smudged on my kitchen table

or that you once breathed the air of the

Same earth I live on now.

My memories of you don’t exist in my head.

They hang on the walls and

Hide in the pancakes

My mom says you always fed her in the morning.

And it saddens me how unfamiliar you look

Through the picture frame

With your arms wrapped around my small body,

Probably feeling so warm,

Probably calling me granddaughter,

Not knowing that I will never be able to remember

Your smiling face on my own.

 

Mara Magarahan is a High School Creative Writing student from Chester County Pennsylvania, who can be found writing poetry anywhere at any time, even if that means scribbling on napkins or writing on her hands. She is the author of the poetry collection I’ll Be Okay, which was published in September of 2018. Recently, her work has been published in Bridge Ink’s literary magazine’s 3.5 issue. Mara finds inspiration from her life experiences and uses writing as both a coping skill and a way to connect with others. She wants readers to feel like they are experiencing the world through her eyes and mind.

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Winter Poems 2020

Copyright © 2023 · Site by Sumy Designs, LLC