Know that hearsay
is only half-lies

You, my sister,
are the one friend
who has known me
all my life
and
I've known you most of yours
less
three years before I came to be
and
a few for which
I have no memory

I wish
I could recall

when I was new
did you lift me?
or stroke
my forehead?
did you sing
to me?

did you gaze
at tiny feet
and
hands
in wonder
and
amazement?

were we pals
even then?
even before my eyes
could focus
on your face
to see you
to know you?

did our spirits
know each other
and
bond in some mysterious way?
planning even then
their escapades
of
running
bare-chested, barefooted
in blazing summer sun
circling our tree
so "far" from home?
our adventures

did they see
the time ahead
when the fog would come
and
confuse?
when we'd each
be alone to struggle
with who we are?

did they know
we'd find our way
back again
never completely losing sight
of our special bond?
a bond temporarily
blurred by life
by grown up sorrows
deaths
separations

grim details
of life

like a broken branch
on a tree that hangs
by not more
than a thread
hangs on through
all the storms
clinging with all
its energy

finally
growing anew
connecting fully

better
than before