Oma's Poem

I know a place with a remarkable story

One of poverty, sorrow, undeniable glory

A woman with nothing but her husband and child

With hopes that a boat would bring a lifetime of smiles

The City of Angels did exactly that

Giving a chance to a family born of combat

I know a place of memories unseen

With cracks so deep you could see inbetween

To the union and dissolution, death and new life

Sun bleached eaves and feasts every night

Grass that shimmered green but faded to brown

A place that housed immigrants that lived off that ground

I know a place that keeps it’s gates open

Somewhere neighbors and family could come and be broken

A home for the sick, and a home for the poor

There was space for anyone if you walked through the door

I know this place, it’s my grandmother’s house

Her spirit remains, but it’s quiet as a mouse

I cling to the echo of this home that’s been granted

And I take peace in knowing it’s from seeds that she planted