I remember it so clearly,
The dark oak of the table,
The smell of her cigarette smoke.
We would sit every night and play
500 Rummy.

Then she started to get weaker.
I would watch in horror
As my grandmother’s hands shook
With every set she put down.

The oak table turned to the
Bland plastic of the one in the hospital
And her cigarettes were replaced with
An IV and an oxygen tank.

The next night
I sat in the living room,
Glaring at the empty table
And the unopened pack of cards.
They mocked me.

I dressed in black today,
When everyone tossed dirt
I tossed an Ace of Spades
And an old Zippo.

One day, she’ll write a book,
A book that will influence thousands
For years to come.

One day, she’ll pour her heart out
For all the world to see
And touch the hearts of
Those who feel alone.

One day, a young girl will open that book
And realize the world isn’t so bad.
She’ll grow up with hope
Despite all the bad she sees.

One day, a young boy will read that book
And experience a brand new world,
One where his mother speaks to him
And his dad doesn’t beat him every night.

One day, she’ll make people happy.

I sit and swing
Back and forth, Back and forth
as I hear the screaming of my sister
playing in my head all over again.

I hear the sound of
her bones breaking as his
foot connects with her leg.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I hear his tone change
from violent to pained
as he apologizes and tells her
he loves her.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I hear her beg for forgiveness
and promise him that she
will never try and leave him again.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I push with more force
as I see the images in my mind.

Back and forth, Back and forth.
I see her and my niece
coming to dinner with bruises
they had tried to hide.

Back and forth, back and forth.

I see him glare at her
and put his hand on her shoulder
to pull her back
whenever she tries to speak
to another man.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I see her in the hospital bed,
countless tubes and wires coming out of her
trying to keep her alive.

Back and forth, Back and forth.

I sit and swing
Back and forth, Back and forth
and stare at the sea of black down the hill.
the only color comes from a bouquet of wet
flowers on the fresh grave.

Back and forth, back and forth.

i am the Ripped Wallpaper.
i am the Dusty Boxes in the attic.
i am the Toys thrown carelessly into the back of the closet.

I am Irrelevant.

i am the Holiday Decorations,
taken out only when needed.
i am the horribly Ugly Dress,
worn only when your mother makes you.
i am the Book that you Hate
but are forced to read for a grade.

i am only Relevant when you Choose.

but ripped wallpaper can be Fixed,
dust can be Swept Off
and toys can be Rediscovered.