Yet not his sister

You call. I hear you.

As I hear you, I touch you.
As I touch you, I know you.
As I know you, I love you.
As I love you, I see you —
Oh let me see you!
       a vision?
Let me see you!
       a prison
Oh let me see you!
       a reason?
When you see me
you will release me.

You knock. I hear you.

I didn’t let you in today
thought you’d derail me
wanted to stay straight today
thought you might bend me
knew you’d possess me.
Let me dream with you again tonight and I’ll
let you in tomorrow, I promise.

my dream

the young man (so young)
the bullets
the pain
and I was his only…
the only place he could go
his mother
       yet not his mother
his lover
       yet not his lover
his sister
       yet not his sister
his friend
       yet not his friend…
His sister. That, I choose.
It was a dream — just a dream.
And yet I am
his sister.

I call. I knock. Let me in.

Let me be a sister again.

Let me tend your hurts, hold you
share your grief, release you
touch your hands, befriend you.

Love is a verb. How may I love you?

(First published in WordThirst)