My grandmother's daughter is like a majestic lion. Her timid steps mimick those of desert fawns. Her words are uttered in the mysterious language of silent birds. When I am hungry, she feeds me. When I am naked, she covers me. When I am poor in spirit, she gives me riches from her soul. Her love for me surpasses all knowledge. I've tried many times to measure it's length, it's width, it's height, it's depth, but to no avail. How can one grasp what is untouchable? She is very touchable. Many dirty hands have violated her. With smiles that hide vengeance and eyes set in stone, the ambassadors to the "real world" seize their oppurtunity and begin their feast of dogs. I look into her eyes and find they hold no contempt. Her faith is that which moves mountains. When I drift to barren wastelands far from myself she gently takes me by the hand and pulls me to safety. She is all I have and all I trust.
