Older Sister

Poetronica: Poem + Video + Music

When I take a walk in the woods

It’s like being with an older

Sister--”come, let me show you,” she says.

I walk to the River and bend down,

I cradle her rocks in my hands.

She’s okay with my brokenness, for she is broken too.

I can be myself with her, she knows what I’m made of.

I dig my toes into her dirt, knowing,

that’s where I’m going, that’s where I’ve been.  

She’s not confused by

My dying, she has died

Many times. She’s the only friend who has already walked

That path.

When I ask her--when

Will it be over--will it hurt?

She answers truthfully: Soon and perhaps.

Then the river sings me to sleep

And the ground wraps her arms around me,

And I am gone.

But she always remembers me, even when no one else does,

The size of my footprint and the cedar I planted

In the backyard.

And her willows weep, for it was not meant to be this way,

but her boughs are strong and carry

Men through the tunnel with no light,

Until the abyss itself falls into the Earth,

And the Oak will pull me back out of the ground

And dust off my ashes, and wake me from death.


Poetry, PoetronicaHetty White