Telling: Streams & Logs

Poetry

Gift

Why is the only birthday I remember 
the one where you cried 
because no one remembered?

You were young. 
I was younger.

I sat at your feet, knees to chin, and watched you.

I saw how the wall behind your head 
was streaked with soap where I had washed it. 

I saw how your head dropped over your heart
and I learned that some sorrows are untouchable.