Restless, on whim and wish we drift;
No map or compass for our quest.
Homeless, when parents move or rift;
No hearth for kin to roost and rest.
Rootless, we seek all bonds to loose;
No ties to past or flesh and blood.
Faithless, preferring freedom to truth;
No thanks to the Giver of life and love.
Trace the shape of all we lack;
The meaning missing from our toil;
You’ll see a woman looking back;
Who bore our seed within her soil.
Grandmother: gentle guide on our quest;
Place of welcome, home and rest.
Grandmother: forging bonds of flesh;
Our tie to ancient faithfulness.
In holy code, children repay
With honour those we sprang from;
We mark their words and learn their ways;
For their weight is not burden but anchor.
