Unborn Brother

I know you only as
a pair of staring eyes
that once haunted my mother.

My own sons were grown
before she spoke of you,
and she was an old woman.

You had been secret
and perhaps forgotten —
at least buried — all that time.

Old, sick and alone
she found you again
among her guilts and regrets.

I was far away;
we kept in touch by phone.
It became too much to hold

and so she told me —
as daughter or healer?
As we were talking, you left.

Those big staring eyes
that had seemed accusing
gazed more softly, then faded.

She said she felt peace.
Perhaps you welcomed her
later, when she too left us.


(Day 4 - Your sibling, or closest relative)