The Link You Are

Your grandfather’s heart stopped at fifty-two,
He pushed through warnings until he stopped.
Your grandmother never walked you to school,
Diabetes took her legs, then took her life.

Now you lift your daughter high, feel your knees protest.
Small pains you could ignore the way they did.
Twenty years from now, will you dance at her wedding?
Thirty years ahead, will you tell her children your stories?

Move, sleep, eat for the ones your life holds up.
You are the link. Choose to hold.