Today,
I look at my sisters wounds
I
see my mothers scars
Bright
pink next to deep purple splotches
Sagging
skin under worn-out eyes.
Every
endeavor I have pursued
Pulled
under, pushed backwards
By
these images I cannot lose
Their
voices plead for pity
With
their backs turned towards me
I
reach for them, drag their things out
from
local bars and motels
Load
down my car with their belongings
My
heart is lighter, with their burdens
On
my shoulders.
Night
comes. They do not.
I
sit and stare at the carved out spots
I
have created for them.
But
the closet remains empty,
My
heart is heavy
While,
just as before, their hurt rips into my own flesh
and
tear me apart
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