My brother’s keeper

tight-rope rope walking,

balancing extremes.

still, too few are talking.

still too many screams.

love, compassion, grace.

are we in this together?

but to see the anguish on her face;

to know that trauma lasts forever.

no, this world is not darker

than I once knew it to be.

I’m just forced to look farther

than I ever wanted to see.

one hand on my heart.

the other set at my side.

pomegranate and hawthorn

grow where innocence died.

student, lover, seeker;

I am my brother‘s keeper.

digger, teacher, weaver;

I am both and neither.

forgive; they know what not what they do.

forgive me, for I am a sinner too.

one hand to the earth from which I came,

the other at the ready.

nothing can ever be the same,

but truth remains, always steady.

©️ Cristen Writes