Generation F speaks to all the strong generations of women before it that made it possible. This poem is about what happens after those kinds of women have passed.
A great granddaughter.
In her eyes reflected the land that the old woman left years ago,
without family or a cent to her name.
Now the old woman has died, passed in a country in which she was not born in.
Passed in a country which refused to acknowledge her.
Her body not cold, before it boarded an airplane.
Now she is dead.
Now she watches over her great granddaughter, who gazes upon the old woman’s motherland in awe.