Monday, November 21, 2005


Years ago we siblings squabbled
We bit, we scratched, we snarled
Now we have been elevated to adulthood
All hostilities have seemingly ceased
But it is still there – that resentment
Beneath the surface, barely discernible
Grooved, fissures, opening, sizzling
A volcano preparing to erupt

And we are startled by the strength
Of feeling in this room. A dull boom
Echoes up through the earth
And past blunders besiege us
For we remember every little thing
We cannot forget. We each
Compete to be more virtuous
In the eyes of a mother

Who can never be satisfied
All our yellow-green yesterdays
All our verdant summers
Our crisp autumns and wondrous
Winters, our celestial springs
Surge forth into this room
And when we fight we wound
And when we wound we draw blood.


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