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La Guerre
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Two Sisters
Saasha Rose, you left your home
to ensure a surrogate.
Two sisters; we began our search
in the last place you had been.
And in the month and a half it took to get you back
to the broken home you left,
we papered the lamp posts and darkened the windows
of each corner you kept.
And wept for the lack of empathy and every past regret.
The young babe and the early grave,
and that eager pound of flesh.
When old enough you left your post,
a troubled trail towards the West Coast
and bore a child, a heart as wild
as the one who fled before.
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Now estranged, two sisters caged
in the MidWest, unforgave.
The last hurrah, the final straw
was the insist of the chase.
And in the month and a half it took to get you back,
I could never have envisioned
the void, the space, the empty place
it would fill or the weight it would lift up.
Since August of the last time our two shadows cast,
I have hoped you lose--
you lose your way so we can bring you back.
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