Speaking to the Blackberry

I can find my grandmother

in the wild blackberry bramble

No matter how many years pass

Without her feet planted next to mine

Eyes crinkling at the edges

Watching me eat every second berry

Her face appears each August

The air thick with sugary ripe seeds

I sit with the blackberry

Asking them for the wisdom, she once gave me

They whisper in my ear and repeat back

Sweet lessons of simplicity

Listen more than you speak

Give more than you receive

They wipe my tears when I cannot hear her voice

Listen to us they say…we remember…we remember

Tart sweetness tied to thorny grief

Of too little time and not enough said

Where will I find her when the blackberry is gone?

Where will I find myself?