sister sister

Living proof that one lives while dead

I am who I am but I never was who I would be

Of all the things I could have said

The ones I kept silent defined me

By my experience I am made

forth from the quietest void I was flung

To the cradle carefully laid

Someone else to become not a hero unsung

Nor to be the hero at all, but a life forsaken

forged by the hands of sinister tradition unveiled

Toward someone, but not meant to be taken

Off the shelf, and flung to the mud.

Becoming the thing that nature had ever meant

The living one purposed nothing serious

Smirking and rosy cheeking no mal intent

By nature a creature alive, vital and curious

Wasn’t seen, didn’t see the last opportunity

Barely from the mother’s bosom freed

To be fed upon as a notorious delicacy

The end of the promised life, an evil breed.

A tradition brought to bear on a life so now dead

Now before it started it was yet __

And something dead crawled from it instead

Spiritus non vive, Vita sin Vita, skeins now respun.

A decimation, yet more than one per ten,

two, three or four of only these few years

All that was to be the gift and ken

And all that birthed a lifetime of arrears.

Experience made the one as he was then

Made now a soul bereft of all liveliness,

Never again the one that lived with perfect kin

Having now known something dark incestuous

A rivalry, a childish game, a something

Murdered the one that was, with eternal blows

bleeding blood, breeding bloated loathing

Or birthing a thing better, maybe god knows

He wasn’t telling, and she wasn’t caring

and I wasn’t living, and They were wondering

What is wrong – What is wrong our son,

Why so sad, Why so Fucking sad, but I was done.

author's note -


unrevised, 2004