"her voice..."

her voice is
like
cool water
offered
in the desert
of my crowded
loneliness

when I
am
thirsty
for
someone who
knows the
me that is
sometimes
more
fragile
than
others
think
they
see..

she is my sister and
I have heard
her sing in her sleep,
whisper to dolls,
scream on a rollercoaster
and
recite math facts...

I have heard her
cry with heartbreak
and
laugh till she cries

her voice is all
the sounds I love

it is crystal,
crisp,
clear
as
the sound of
a
December
wind
blowing through
the icicles that hang
from
our cabin's
eaves

it is as smooth as
warm honey
dripping
straight from the
comb

it is as strong as
our mother's
love for us,
and as
fierce as her
correction
when we
have
erred

my sister's voice
echoes through
the decades and
whispers,
"I am here"
rending the
veil of night,
and
slaying
the pale
dragons of
childhood
terrors
that
taunt
and
threaten from
behind the
closet
door
and
under the
bed

her breathing is
the lullaby
I long for when
I cannot fight
the demons
of regret,
and sleep
alludes
beyond the
blue light of dawn

her sighing
says we
share the same
concerns,
worry about the
same loved ones,
are baffled by
the same
decisions,
and
are wearied by the
same social injustices...

her voice has
the timbre  of
a gentle
God
whose
name is
Love,
and the
sweet
resonance of
a woman
whose
name
is
hers

to hear her
voice is
to
have
found
my
way
home