JRA. 4/11/11.

He was a storm chaser,

I was the little girl with wings on my feet.

Some days we talked about dark skies and

the kind of rain that made everything new,

and on others I confessed that the wings on my feet were broken.

He said, “keep going.”

So I did.

 

He was a champion,

I was a scared little sister.

Some days we turned Led Zeppelin up too loud,

and he would tell me that sometimes he felt like he was running

and he had no idea what he would find at the end.

I said, “keep going.”

So he did.

 

He was the one who died young,

I was the one who grieved.

Some days I think I hear the crunch of metal that stopped his heart,

and I would call his name, not knowing if he was the shelter

or the storm.

But someone always says, “keep going,” and I hear his voice again.

So I do.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s