I miss you, Ouma.
You carried too much and it broke you.
You knew too much and you stayed silent.
You weren’t perfect,
you made me angry. You made me sad.
But in hindsight, I see now what you saw.
I wish I could tell you that.
I wish I could let you know,
I learnt more than knitting, more than cooking,
I weave more than just anger and sadness.
My bones tapestry. My blood is cooking fire.
Our enemy is so afraid of me now,
and a lot of it was because of you.
If they only knew what armour we could weave
from wool and nail polish and bedtime stories.
I miss you so much.
I hope I make you proud.
*Ouma is the Afrikaans word for grandmother.
Charl Landsberg is a South African poet, musician, artist, and writer who’s work often focuses on issues of social justice.