Grandma’s Hands
Once again, earth opens its jaws,suspending reality in mid-air.Shops buzz, leaves fall, and planes roar overhead;time stubbornly sticks in place—only metaphysical questions remain. As receding planets provided the ancientsno hope for recovering what was lost,all the streaming tears and piercing wailswon’t reverse yesterday’s tide.They release the pressure of energy trapped—grief’s entropy. Once…












