Sisters

Sisters come in all shapes and sizes… some you share parents with, and in that case, you play the hand you are dealt, so I can only hope that you have pulled some lucky cards out of that deck, as I have!  Others are friends that share no blood ties, but who share the most important moments of our lives… the women who are there from day to day, the women who understand what we are experiencing.  They laugh with us, sometimes they even weep with us, but they are always ready to offer advice, a shoulder to cry on, or just to listen when we need to talk things through.  Chance may have put them in our path, but choice has kept them close to us, and we have adopted them as sisters. 

I think some men also share those bonds with other men, but most of the men I’ve known are prone to keeping things to themselves, rather than choosing to talk about it with a friend.  Perhaps that’s why a lot more men than women I know have ulcers!  You know, my friends, that I am speaking in generalities here… there are women who are more reticent and men who are more forthcoming, but I can speak only from my own experiences, which may not be statistically sound. 

Sisters are happy to teach each other the things they know, and are flattered when someone asks for a recipe or a pattern or another slant on an issue.  My dear husband used to say… think outside the box.  But perhaps there is one way of thinking that surpasses even that box with sisters… we think not with our intellect or reason, but from our feeling center. 

And so… with Thanksgiving looming on the horizon… I think of the things I’m thankful for, and my sisters are at the top of the list.  I love my children but they have moved on with their own lives, and I am on the fringe, no longer essential to the daily movement of their lives.  But my sisters have walked the path beside me, whether we are near or far from each other.  We have shared our deepest hopes and dearest dreams… as well as our greatest sorrows.  And throughout every mountain peak or valley, one common thread is apparent:  we care.  We have found a place where we belong in each other’s lives, and perhaps a sense of belonging is one of the most basic needs we experience.  I am thankful for the sisters that have become part of my life.  Our bond is stronger than a physical connection; whatever your geographic location may be, you have taken up permanent residence in my heart! 

I wrote these poems in 1990… and they are still appropriate, perhaps to many of us.

Who Am I?

I am a mirror,

Reflecting colors of fey spirits,
Brushing close enough to touch,
Then drifting softly
Out of sight.

I am a sponge,

Soaking up fond memories
To squeeze alive when loneliness
Comes creeping, quietly,
At night.

I am a broom,

Sweeping out debris
Of fleeting moments spent
Pursuing promises that never seem
To light.

And, sometimes,
I just am.
And it’s alright.

 

 I Am

I am a moan,
The pain that knows forever.
I am a shout,
The joy that life can’t sever.
I am a sigh,
The hope that fears regretting.
I am a tear,
The thought that pleads forgetting.
I am a throb,
The heart that feels no longing.
I am a breath,
The life that craves belonging.