Experience

It can’t fit in a single skull.
Over time, it leaks out,
Swells the skin pores and forms leathery ripples
Not easily decoded.

I feel the last warmth of my mother’s arm.
She is more like me than I ever imagined.
I cannot tell her.
Yet, somehow, I feel she already knows.

Experience can’t fit in a single lifetime.
Over generations, it leaks out,
Swells the personality and touches attitudes
Not easily understood.

I hold my granddaughter in my arms.
She is the little mischief maker I was generations ago.
There is no point in telling her.
Time is not an easy teacher.