My Sister – Anthea

 

Sometimes you dip your fingers into
The holy water of our childhood.
You flick a little toward me: take these,
A benediction
A blessing
A recognition of who we once were
In another world by sunny seas.

Sometimes faded thoughts cross your mind,
Like a bird flitting through the grey sky.
You glance behind you to where you left me,
You wonder what makes me sigh
And shake my head.
You do not realize or even want to know
About hurt or pain or stuff that you said.

My sister, my stranger, I don’t know who you are,
I don’t know where you go though you went from me.
The little hand in mine let go, let go,
Along with the shells on the beach
That you threw to the waves and the sand and the sea.

Sometimes you touch – lightly – the flowers
Of the garden of our childhood.
Fragile, iridescent rainbow pearls.
Your tread is heavy but you smile
For a moment
A recognition of who we once were
A long time ago, when we were other girls.

(published by Flambard)

Catherine Broughton