The Old Soul Poem

Written in memory of Neno, Great-Grandma Groves, Nanny, Grandma Smith, and in honor of my mom, Patrica Kay Groves Smith.

The Old Soul Poem

Somewhere inside me is an elderly soul,

And many are the women who have helped me feel old.

I mean this in love not in anguish or jest

For grandmothers and greats who are now at their rest.

Their wisdom and peace-did they know they’d impart?

Some I never met, but they are dear in my heart.

My great-grandmother, the minister’s wife;

Had she any idea how she’d impact me for life?

Though I never knew her on this earthly soil

I am told on her knees at the altar she toiled

For loved ones and friends to know her dear Lord,

And to meet later on in Heaven’s reward.

She sang praises aloud as she strummed her guitar;

A gift that bequeathed to generations afar,

Down the line three or four; it’s really not odd.

The Word tells us that children are the heritage of God.

Then another great woman whom I knew very well

Taught me many fun sayings that I still like to tell:

Ducks on June bugs, Cox’s army, and old Carter’s pills

Live on in my mind and escape my lips still.

A fondness for old things, saving pennies and dimes;

Being with her was the very best of times.

Hair sets on the weekend,  going to the store;

I pray her into my dreams so I can see her once more.

She wouldn’t miss church if it was in her power

And many a Sunday, I’d drive her the half hour

To hear hellfire and brimstone, and pay her meager tithes

Oh how I’m thankful she was ever so wise.

Then there was Nannie, I guess I’m honored a bit

To have acquired from her some of my smart-alec wit.

From her I learned embroidery and crochet,

And never to smoke, because it takes breath away.

Sucking on cigarettes made breathing a chore

And we couldn’t do the things we’d done together before

Like walking the tracks and going to town

Had it not been for tobacco, she might still be around.

Then there was Grandma, the onliest one

Who lived in the city, which seemed kind of fun.

A single mom way before it was common

Taking care of her son, to that she did cotton.

A pride in her heart comparable to none

Was the gift she was given in my father, her son.

Working hard for your money, helping those in need

Were gifts that she gave me, priceless indeed.

Of course there’s my mother who has the patience of Job

The perpetual caretaker of all in her globe.

To pray without ceasing in Jesus good name

Is the jewel she gave me in the prize of life’s game.

To this day these women live on in my days,

And in the lives of my daughters, and their unique ways.

I’m nostalgic for all things from those days gone by

And I remember and recall with a smile and a sigh

These women who touched me and molded my heart

And showed me my Lord who set me apart

For His service and praise, though I’m really quite flawed

Thanks be to my maker, my redeemer, my God.

Somewhere inside me is an elderly soul

And many are the women who have helped me feel old.

©Marci Linson 2010