Anatomy of Grace

ANNA DELAMERCED

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If these bones could speak

Would they ask

Tell me who you are, 

I will tell you about me

 

Would they name their children

One by one, tell stories

They used to tell their grandchildren at bedtime

 

would they sing songs 

in the morning

Their voices echoing to high ceilings

Until gathering into a chorus

 

Would they map out where they’ve been

Where they hoped they could have gone

 

I carry in this wooden box

A final act of generosity 

The power of giving

What words cannot say

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