Fathom Mag


A Poem

Published on:
October 8, 2020
Read time:
1 min.
Share this article:

I don’t remember
when my sister was born,
life before her life
breathed memory
into my life.
I don’t remember
only gradual awakening
to the only reality
that ever would be.
You can tell me stories of
days before her days
merged life
with life—
they’re just B.S. theories.
I am not convinced
I was ever me before she
took my hand
said my name
called me
her own

When sisters are born
the universe takes notice.
They are galaxies,
expressions of the same
bits of mystery
dancing among the stars
to the music of future stories
written on their souls,
sparking across
the distance of
hand to hand
as they share the road,
the space between
heart to heart
as they bear the load
when their maps
and bear them
into realities that
never should have been.
They are
laughter and tears
hope and fear
fire and ice,
a controlled burn
lighting up the night
radiating heat
to warm their hands
and souls
as they forge a path through
the uncharted void
to find the other half of
one whole

I am not convinced
I am ever really me
my sister.

Amber Crafton
Amber lives and works in St. Louis, MO. She has a passion for stories of any kind, believing that each one is important and deserves expression. When she’s not reading or drinking coffee with friends, you’ll find her writing her heart novel, fiddling with the scripts for a collaborative YouTube web series, or blogging (http://punctuatefaith.wordpress.com). She’s also very likely knitting or coloring while engaging in a variety of Twitter shenanigans (@amsoverhorizons) and chronicling precious moments of life and faith on Instagram (@godslittlegirl).

Cover Image by Michał Parzuchowski

Next story