By Margaret Walker

My grandmothers were strong.
They followed plows and bent to toil.
They moved through fields sowing seed.
They touched earth and grain grew.
They were full of sturdiness and singing.
My grandmothers were strong.

My grandmothers are full of memories
Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay
With veins rolling roughly over quick hands
They have many clean words to say.
My grandmothers were strong.
Why am I not as they?

“Lineage” from This is My Century: New and Collected Poems. Copyright © 1989 by Margaret Walker. Source: This is My Century: New and Collected Poems (University of Georgia Press, 1989)
Photograph of Margaret Walker by Carl Van Vechten © Van Vechten Trust