I want to hold you, sister.
Take your shaking hands in mine
And pass some strength
From me to you.

I see the panic in your eyes.
I know the whispers in your heart
As well now as I did then.
I tell you, they are lies.

Oh, sweet girl, how you tremble!
An earthquake beginning in your soul,
Spiraling outward, heart to body,
From an epicenter of doubt.

In memory, you are as close to me
As the touch of palm and breath
On the glass of my mirror.
Closed as you are to me, I see you.

Past and present, so thinly separate
As the glass between body and reflection.
You are still in me.

You are not alone.
I am still afraid.

© Nova Literary Works