Brother and Sister

I sat a while thinking of my brother and sister,

how far away he is, and how close

my sister and I have become, though five years

apart, before I remembered biology,

and that we are half-siblings, news to us

in our adult lives. Strangely, that brought us

closer than geography or time.

To understand something about our parents

or, for me, why I was a little different.

I was the oldest, so I thought responsibility,

thrust upon me a little soon,

had separated me. Diligent and good,

nicknamed Cinderella.

Then there was the riddle of Oedipus,

given to us to solve to end a dispute.

I won, also winning the marble rock

my brother had left somewhere outside

but I had found and claimed as mine.

I tucked it away for safekeeping.

Years later, I found it and returned it

to him, or meant to. It may be here still,

tucked away in shame and love, ready

for the giving. It is one of the forgotten

things, treasured and mislaid, that life

buries for us in dust, or hides like bright eggs

on the church lawn at Eastertime for us

to find in innocent delight, if we were ever

innocent, and, yes, we were, we didn’t know

anything yet.

— Babs