Stumbling upon old papers…

I found a Stack of school assignments, marked with red, unreadable handwriting inside my closet today. A product of a semester long poetry class, this poem stood out to me and struck me deep inside as much today as it did the midnight morning that I wrote it. Some memories stay and waltz with us. The death of a dear friend at the age of thirteen will forever dance around me. It inspires me to listen more, do more, and live more. It inspires me in other ways as well.

To My Sister, on the One Year Anniversary of Her Death

You walk loudly

in my dreams,

heavy footsteps haunting

hallways of my mind. Last night you came,

Holy-Looking Barbie, no hair out

of place, just the way Mom left you–

pink coffin, open, red heels, glitter, unable to click

three times. There’s no place like home,

you told me. In my dream

we were at the ocean,

quaint little cove Mom and Dad would drag

the family to, immortalizing

pictures, smiles. Sea-gulls, angry onlookers

white and gray, soaring overhead. You’d prance,

pink polka-dotted bikini. Boys from Minnesota 

staring, jaws open, joking.

I was jealous.

 

What is heaven like? I asked you. You took

My hands and held them, tightly, the way

I hold your pillow, stealing scents you weren’t selfish

Enough to take. There’s no place like home.

Head back, blue eyes, bouncing light, laughing like

A baby. And then you left, leaving Mt. Minneapolis

To talk to other girls,

Me to wander beaches by myself.

 

Today I found Mom crying again.

Tears, mascara running, ruining.

Dad sits, an addict of sorrow,

In your bedroom. Dozens of pink roses rest

On your bedside table, dried, decaying, unmovable,

As if they were meant to greet you

When you rise again. I stand, invisible, in the doorframe

Nothing more than the daughter that got left

Behind.

There’s no place like home. 

 

Listen to the words of the song! Listen! Listen! -Emily Mynster.

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