milligrams

by definition so minuscule

but they cause a magnitude

of difference

how can something so small

help me be who i want to be

and i realize

the little changes we make

change everything

giving is itself a reward

to see their smiles

the light in their eyes

it fills me with warmth and with joy

these young girls

just want to be seen

and loved

and cherished

and given the chance to show their talent and gifts

they want the space to thrive

they want a big sister

to cheer them on

to encourage them

to teach them

to guide them

i will give them that space

i will be the vessel

of God’s love for them

i will be the sister

i should like to be

a novel

if you were

the loyal scribe

draw your lines and

write your poems

fill my headings

with your time

open up

my every chapter

gently, please

don’t break my spine

pour your words

into my pages

i will be

your written shrine

lay in the stillness

water brushing skin and bone

forgo all illness

favouring this sodden home

deep creatures lurking

strip away all sense of self

upper life shirking

this is where one finds oneself

funny to think I used to buy the narrative

that children would slow me down

now i visit my sister to see my nephew

and i ache for a boy of my own

how much love flows from me

for this little child?

i can't measure it, can't understand

this care that makes me wild

the knowledge i would do anything

to keep him safe from harm

protect him

shelter

anything

his laughter fills my heart

when he burrows close into my side,

something in me sighs

i'll take the crying

i'll take the heartache

i'll hold him all through the night

the thought of losing him wrecks me

the thought of those little feet still

the thought of him sick, or hurt, or picked on

burns through me to make me feel ill

before i knew

what love for a child was

before i knew what it would unlock

i thought i was better without them

and now i know i was not

it isn't universal

this craving to have and raise and love

but it lives in me

i pray one day

my turn will finally come

her blades glide on the ice

she twirls, all silken colour

my parrot replica is born

by board and dry erase marker

she draws the lines, invisible

i mimic her in squeaking green

a shade to match my envy of

her skill, a graceful dream

I will carve out a place

to face

myself, I need a rhythm and a reason just to

trace my cells

to keep track

of all the ways that I have

become my own

my being, my person,

to start to call this skin "home"

I will challenge the lies

I will fight back the tide

I will look in the mirror and I will not be denied

If it's this figure, then I figure

"leave the bad thoughts behind;

all the persecuting bullies

were just words in your mind"

leaving the anger behind me

was like letting go of a serpent

i’d held on so long out of fear

the fear of what came next

the fear of trying to start over

the fear of failing to find “new”

that i’d let myself be poisoned again

and again

and again

because of my own clenched fist