My grandfather lives in a frame in the living room
He has been there since the year my father stopped being nineteen
The year he inherited his father’s job, his family, his silence⁣⁣
too large to wear comfortably⁣⁣
and no one to ask how⁣, and no choice to say no⁣
But will he inherit his smile?⁣
⁣⁣
My grandfather’s portrait never aged⁣⁣
while my father learned, slowly,⁣⁣
the way you build a life without blueprints ⁣
brick by brick, room by room,⁣ until one day I arrived⁣⁣
and he had to learn something beyond grief:⁣
How to be a father⁣
⁣⁣
In the night, he never listened⁣⁣
In the morning, he let me talk⁣⁣
That was how he built his walls⁣
giving in to his grief in the night⁣
and finding the strength ⁣
in the morning light⁣
⁣
Every morning, I passed my grandfather ⁣
wondering about an alternate reality⁣
But his Mona Lisa smile suggested ⁣
he had always known how⁣
this particular reality would unravel ⁣
looking at us from God’s eyes⁣
⁣⁣
Then I turned nineteen⁣ and told my father⁣
I wanted to say the unspoken in poems, ⁣
or something equally impractical,⁣ ⁣
maybe movies, maybe both⁣
and my father, who had never been asked,⁣⁣
who never had the luxury of wanting,⁣⁣
looked at me for a long moment⁣ and said yes⁣⁣
⁣⁣
The man on the wall kept smiling⁣⁣
It seems he had known all along⁣⁣
And now I see my father⁣⁣
finally inheriting ⁣
his father’s smile⁣⁣
when he sees mine

NaPoWriMo Day 12 – Finally, here’s today’s (optional) prompt. Amarjit Chandan has a pretty wild biography, but his poetry is often focused on place and memory – with his hometown of Nakodar appearing repeatedly. His poem “Uncle Mohan Singh” recounts, with a sort of dreaminess, a memory of the titular uncle playing the accompaniment to a silent film. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem that recounts a memory of a beloved relative, and something they did that echoes through your thoughts today.