Inherited Works

My grandmother died in the late 80's, or early 90's. I was pretty young so I don't really remember. She left behind boxes of mostly unpublished writing. Because she died long before the Internet became widely accessible, she was forced to try to share here work through newspapers, anthologies, publishers etc... Which meant that most of what she wrote stayed filed in those boxes. If she were alive today I am sure she would be thrilled by the chance to distribute her work herself. I have decided to occasionally post some little gems of hers that I have come across.

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Un seeing I stumble out into the sunshine.
And walk beside the swift flowing river.
A misplaced star flow er.
Blinks Smiles up at me from the grass
Birds fly in the sky.
I lean my face up against a tree's cool bark.
I I am the bird, the flower and the tree
And they are me.

Cleansing Stream.

Everything that is born on ea rth
Clutches death to its breast
As it shudders from the womb
Pain opens the door to what lies beyond.

Cleansing Stream.

Let pain be the key
That quickly opens the door.
To what lies beyond.

Jean S. Morin