Big brother always comes sideways,
Wanting to catch me off-guard:
'You are an accident.'
He taunts the 5, 7, 13 year old.
Always I respond with windmilling fists
Too small for his growing frame
He doesn't even defend himself
Laughing at each rapid blow.
Years later, little sister,
Looks at my suitcase:
'You are leaving.'
It is a statement, an accusation.
Turning toward the door
I never thought of it
The distance I was creating
For each of us.
The Man in the Moon smiles upon the desert
His light reveals my tatters:
'You are walking in circles.'
He whispers mocking my journey.
I curse the wind that
Swirls sand into my eyes
It continues westward
Oblivious to my shrinking frame.
The Rain God stroking my head
As I approach the great city:
'You are home.'
She welcomes the young and old.
Sitting in the infinite sea
Surrounded and contained
The endless void of possibility
Is this what's next?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment