because I remember her hoeing the garden

alone in her eighties in her small wood-framed house

how she left that behind to accompany her sister

who was my great grandmother in her dying days

and the kindness in her faded gray eyes

as she wrapped her wrinkled hands around mine

and told me she too would follow soon

with this sort of history woven into my bones

fierce love that disregards common norms

but pursues a deeper decency instead

I cannot be afraid

she went beyond again and again

showed me how this can be done

one gentle implacable step after another