To be

to be the girl who knows when the water is blue

or just a reflection

to be conversant with the tongue of senescence,

growing accustomed to its slow arrival,

to be at peace when we finally understand one another,

and why I am sad when I see people eating alone on Friday nights

to be the bird with the soft-tip wings and pointed eyes,

knowing and trusting on the branches it rests upon,

but more importantly in its own feet

to be mom to my mother, daughter to my dad,

sister to my sister, to be woman and treated with

body and curves, sweat, teeth, and hair, to be seen as I am

to be a lake that holds, overflowing and giving,

a hand when everyone and thing has let go

to be the bed one returns home to, sinking into me

like a dream, to be a dream and reality reunited

in an empty airport

to be happiness when you are happy,

to feel as if I were you, for what you love and lose

is close to me

to be grey when white and black lift stubborn chins,

to be silence when needed and to be conversation when needed

to be, to be, to be,

when it is hardest to be at all.