by Sarah ChristianScher
I built your brother wings:
wax and feather they were,
white as cloud they were,
and he flew away from me.
Until, sun-scorched, he fell
taken by the sea.
For you, my son, I built a cage:
wire and driftwood it is,
white as bone it is,
and you will remain with me.
Until, time-withered, you fall
taken by an endless sleep.
Little boys are made to burn;
they blacken their parents’ hearts.
I am sorry you missed my paler youth.
Your brother took that from me,
as he took your flight from you.
With what little kindness was left in me,
I hung your cage at the edge of a sea cliff.
So, should you feel like flying one day,
you will fall into your brother’s arms.