Exchange
I will die before my granddaughter growsTo womanhood, tall and strong like her kin,But I already see her claim her kindIn her form, her face, and, above all, her eyes,Blue so bright they pierce your passion for light,Burning from skin so fair and radiantYou see her light rising up to kiss the skyIn thanks for the gift of the heavenly wave—No one sees Emma’s eyes without an audible gasp,A shock of wonder at what nature can do.
Nearing my death and making peace with it,I too give thanks for this infant visionInto the past of my Black Forest people.I see through her eyes and upon her skinThe mystery their environment bred in them—The brutal winters, the towering oaks,The beasts that could cost a man his life for meat,The mountains they had to climb for the other side—I rejoice in what they did to give her life,Sweet life, so sweet that death must have mine back.
Nearing my death and making peace with it,I too give thanks for this infant visionInto the past of my Black Forest people.I see through her eyes and upon her skinThe mystery their environment bred in them—The brutal winters, the towering oaks,The beasts that could cost a man his life for meat,The mountains they had to climb for the other side—I rejoice in what they did to give her life,Sweet life, so sweet that death must have mine back.
