for my sister Kaley on her birthday

Seeing You

for my sister Kaley on her birthday

I will not

rationalize --

Love is truth.

Indifference blinds

like a sin. Even

in our close quarters

your closet crib,

I don't remember looking 

in. Your baby days came and went 

the usual number of 

sweet years. The 

days swaying on

the tire swing on the tree 

in the side yard next

to the white and

yellow porch.

Scattered over two acres

the dandelions

we picked for 

Mother's Day, paper

bags full. Scattered over

Dad's bent back, we

three kids on the golden

yellow carpet.

None of us is innocent.

Even a five-year-old bears

the taint of genes,

the tendency to ignore

or neglect. Your cheeks

and nose and mouth

(we shared some of these

in common);

mine are creased now

with tears and time

and sun.

I study your face now

in your sons. It is impossible

to achieve perfect

recollection; let that

be my pardon:

Each photograph, we're wearing
matching Holly Hobbie

bathrobes at Christmas, each 

church duet, cute and

funny story of our

sisterly connection,

puts pieces back in place

and will now not be forgotten.

But, when I

was five and you were none,

I forget.  When I was teened 

and peeved, you were 

lightness and brightness and

ten and kind.

I was blind.

God and sisters

are not to be ignored, wait 
to be seen. Now I look

at you both and remember

what friendship looks like.

*adapted from a poem by Luci Shaw, "Permanent I.D."