Break it.

Frust

Ration it

Mold White

Spots

Who knows

How Long

Broken and Wrecked

Out to Here

It's a Thought

And Heat

Til I Will

Become

Open

Of You, and You, and Our Being Friends

And I came here to write, to be so beautiful that your heart will crack and the opening of love
will reach you out to me, for the only remedy, the connection of sisters

And I found myself reading, instead. Thinking of my sisters whom I've climbed bunks with,
slept in beds with, hidden behind mattresses for, taken care of and gotten rid of cats for

And my friends, you are my soul incarnate. You are the people I have lived for, ever since
I was nine and I realized that I had no sister, or I was five and I admired my older cousin

I learned ballet to be like her, I slid on the training wheels of ballet slippers, sucked my stomach in
And jealousy dripped from every pore as the girl with my name twirled perfectly, and I stumbled

And you were there, to tell me she didn't matter, by changing the subject and absorbing my mind
Playing a new game, leading your sister, crawling under plants and through piles of leaves

And these are the things we remember when we watch new generations of children, wishing
That our own were forthcoming, painlessly and naturally, because childhood still hooks our minds

Realism is, the travels you take before our coordinates match, and the minutes flying through the earpiece as we giggle and chat hysterically, connected by so much more than a uterus

We are sisters by our own discretion, yes laugh please, you'll know the joke before too long has passed, because we'll refuel on the nourishment of hearing each others' lives spilled into vessels

Pour your experience into my heart, and I will live a richer life, for having known your glow
sweet soul who matches my own soul, laugh deeply for I feel every morsel in vibrant cells


~
(c) Maria Enns 2014, all rights reserved