when grandma’s gone by Jeric Olay
why is it that the sunbird no longer builds her nest
under the eaves of grandma’s decades-old abode?
i remember her room was once a bethel of assorted scents
the pungent, Marian smell of dried Rosal from her altar
the smell of her katinko
at night, there’s a tumultuous silence:
no more “o clement, o loving, o sweet Virgin Mary”
and no more gibberish recital of the litany.
when grandma’s gone, it seems her spell and her
grace have traveled with her.
and in the garden, her moth orchid has
ceased
to
flower.
(previously published in The Aleph Review)
Jeric Olay is a poet, teacher, and opinion writer born in Southern Leyte, a small province in the Philippines. His essays have been published in his country's newspapers. His poems are included in Mekong Review (Asian Literature) magazine and Nebo, a literary journal managed by Arkansas Tech University in US.
Posted on December 26th 2023