On moving on

Dear Grandmother

I thought you ought to know

The racist comments

Don’t hurt

Anymore.

Your sharp words

No longer pierce my flesh

As well as my heart.

They serve another purpose

That I am sure

You never intended.

They have made my skin

Steel

They have made my heart

Iron

I can now stand among

The world and

Acknowledge who I am

Without fear.

Why should I fear

What others say

Because I have already faced the hardest.

The one who should have loved

Was the one who

Tore me down.

So I got up

On my own.

I made my own crutches

Out of my own achievements

Out of my own hard work

Out of my own family.

A family I made all on my own.

So Grandmother

I know this may come

As a surprise

But I thought you ought to know

The racist comments

Don’t hurt

Anymore.

Sent not with love

But with abnegation,

Your Granddaughter.