There was a Promise For Two
I am here, because, there was a promise for two.
It was a commitment to their bond,
a mutual elective.
But Maria’s beam disappeared after five hours.
Separated from mother’s womb,
her innocence was unable to endure the rigors
of an indifferent world,
She was suppose to be daddy’s little girl,
Mommy’s alter image and brother’s shining star.
Soft....angelic.
Their expectations converted to muted despair.
A balanced homecoming became questionable.
and over time, insurmountable.
The heartaches began to escalate, and eventually barricade concern for the mysteries destiny.
Tears fell, for what never would be,
tears for dreams,
and tears for abandoned dreams,
tears for Maria.
Two years past
and I was the one chosen to replace her shadow.
Conceived to witness the hearts vacuum.
To kneel, with my back straight, next to an older brother before the hallowed space,
where, under the tightly packed sod, among uniformed columns of god’s beloved children,
sweet Maria lies in peaceful repose by the stone Grotto.
My adolescent hands squeezed the polished silver,
as they pounded the cross into the unforgiving earth.
I pondered my existence, while questioning my replanted tangibility,
trying to comprehend the equity of life through a spectral identity,
and wondering where my place might be, if my sister had prevailed and flourished.
One day, I returned to place a wooden crucible where the silver once glimmered in the sun.
I marked her name in burnt lettering.
Again, the effort was pilfered by the same callous world
Maria’s tiny fingers refused to touch.
There was never coherence, but, eventually I understood.
I am here, because, there was a promise for two
and for a small coffin,
that was lowered into the cold ground of North Arlington.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
There was a Promise For Two
I am here, because, there was a promise for two.
It was a commitment to their bond,
a mutual elective.
But Maria’s beam disappeared after five hours.
Separated from mother’s womb,
her innocence was unable to endure the rigors
of an indifferent world,
She was suppose to be daddy’s little girl,
Mommy’s alter image and brother’s shining star.
Soft....angelic.
Their expectations converted to muted despair.
A balanced homecoming became questionable.
and over time, insurmountable.
The heartaches began to escalate, and eventually barricade concern for the mysteries destiny.
Tears fell, for what never would be,
tears for dreams,
and tears for abandoned dreams,
tears for Maria.
Two years past
and I was the one chosen to replace her shadow.
Conceived to witness the hearts vacuum.
To kneel, with my back straight, next to an older brother before the hallowed space,
where, under the tightly packed sod, among uniformed columns of god’s beloved children,
sweet Maria lies in peaceful repose by the stone Grotto.
My adolescent hands squeezed the polished silver,
as they pounded the cross into the unforgiving earth.
I pondered my existence, while questioning my replanted tangibility,
trying to comprehend the equity of life through a spectral identity,
and wondering where my place might be, if my sister had prevailed and flourished.
One day, I returned to place a wooden crucible where the silver once glimmered in the sun.
I marked her name in burnt lettering.
Again, the effort was pilfered by the same callous world
Maria’s tiny fingers refused to touch.
There was never coherence, but, eventually I understood.
I am here, because, there was a promise for two
and for a small coffin,
that was lowered into the cold ground of North Arlington.
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