Delicately I begin brushing away cobwebs
Softly blowing the settled dust covering.
Brittle paper below years of neglect,
mementos of a forbidden love affair.
Once, knowledge of lustful infidelity crushed – –
child of twelve couldn’t handle Truth.
He chose pursuits not his own,
and tore to shreds marriage vows.
She was created in these passions
(an innocent born of what’s not).
Selfish, stubborn, and loyal I declined
to acknowledge what he laid claim.
At her breast, I buried myself;
opened her old wounds and hurt.
She, the betrayed, allowed me comfort – –
as only Mother could, head high.
He no longer stood above me,
his pedestal crumbled with my discovery.
Foolishly, I had expected his perfection.
His word was bond – became law.
My father, merely human, was humbled.
Years passed and she grew apart:
my sister unknown in childhood’s choice.
Our children, cousins and strangers alike.
The withered tree of family struggling.
But now adults with our own
vows spoken before God and loves,
attempt to understand what once was.
The aged testaments shared by lovers
without regard for right become guide.
Burning the evidence cannot erase it.
Instead, I offer these romantic tokens
as proof she’s love’s own creation.
Perhaps he was conflicted back then?
We wont condone, but will forgive.
(Mother taught me that with strength.)
Looking to future instead of past,
we seek to fertilize and grow.
Restoring health to long ailing limbs
and accepting one another as part.
*inspired by “looking forward” from Six Word Fridays ; shared with Write on Edge.