She died,

Clinging to memories and thoughts of a sisterhood that never had a chance to unfold,

15 years old,

ambitions,

hopes,

dreams of a better time,

halted by the end of time–

Sisters who work in the garlic fields together,

A team of children living in poverty,

Struggling to eat each day — then —

we

became

me,

I reach out to you on nights when I wavier and you come to me,

Memories,

Rememeber the time when we sat down on a rock and talked about what we have never told the parents?

Your arm was bleeding,

scrapes and cuts so real that I see them today,

No one knows but me,

You asked me never to tell,

and I haven’t,

You fell off your roller blades, right?

15 years living,

15 years gone,

I celebrate every birthday,

Take off every death day,

and I remember you,

Memories,

Remember when you tried to sneak out of the house?

You came running back in,

“Someone is out there, watching me,”

Next morning,

A single sweater was drying on the clothesline,

You sweated that night, fear,

and blushed in the morning, embarrassment,

You never got those boots you were saving up for,

A letter in your hand writing,

Returned to me after grandma passed,

I re-read your thoughts all the time,

Stay close to me,

Memory,

I write a poem about my sister,

Her letter next to a picture of her and grandma,

Those were happy times in the struggle of life.

-End-