Cycle of Crumbs

When I was there,
she yelled at me,
drug me down by my hair,
glared at me with malice.
When I was there,
I was her enemy,
her seed
of destruction.
The dark-haired demon
she could never nurse.
For years,
I wandered,
always wanting.
Now I know why.
She never loved me.
Now that I am of age,
my only revenge is to bear her nothing.
To end the cycle of crumbs
that brought me here.
I do not want to know the damage
I could bring to another.
I do not want her to live on.

Sisterly Love

Winter comes on
like an angry mistress
spewing her distaste
over being scorned.
Again and again
she bangs her head against the wall,
against the door,
against the unyielding foolishness
of sisterly love.
One minute wanting to include,
the next,
torn away at the seams by the dagger of
betrayal.
What to do?
What to do?
What to do?
No wedding day
with family.
No bedside grief of mourning.
No dreams of children to hold,
not with the fear of repeating the past
looming so large in her head.
Here in the garden
a bird flies into her hand,
the calming flutter of preciousness,
so young
and dear.
A winged angel,
bringing messages of comfort and joy
to soothe her thoughts and spirit.
She watches the grass grow
and wonders how it got so tall
without the rain.