Between Bruises & Blooms

We were never enemies.

We were just
a brother,
a sister,
and another sister,

standing in the middle
of a fire
none of us knew
how to put out.

You were holding
his life
with both hands.

I was holding
my daughters
with mine.

Neither of us
could let go.

I know now
that every message
I read as anger

was grief.

Every question
you asked

was love.

Every boundary
I drew

was fear.

We weren’t trying
to destroy each other.

We were trying
to save
the people
we couldn’t bear to lose.

I’m sorry

that somewhere
between protecting him
and protecting my girls,

I stopped protecting

us.

I’m sorry
that our family
became something
we had to survive

instead of somewhere
we could rest.

I know
I can’t rewrite
those conversations.

I can’t erase
the winter
that sat between us.

But if I could
go back,

I would tell you
what I never said
well enough.

I wasn’t choosing
against you.

I wasn’t choosing
against him.

I was choosing
the only thing
I knew how to protect.

And I’m sorry
that choice
cost me
my sister.

Because even now,

after all the silence,

after all the hurt,

after everything
that came after,

you are still

my sister.

He is still

my brother.

And a part of me
will always mourn

the Christmas

when fear
became louder

than family.