we will all be in the same place

for the first time in six years

distance, the only way civility thrives

will close around us as we

occupy the same room

breathe the same air

stifling one another with subtext

stabbing one another with only joking


we three

a volatile concoction of scars

a triangle more fatal than Bermuda

triangulation, triginomical espionage

a mother and her two surviving children

the derelict son, the daughter who escaped

together loud silence

mother: I love you, hate you

you are not a mother–though

you birthed me

that is where the mothering ended

left to fend for myself

like a feral cat

I made a home out of garbage and broken dreams

brother: I love you, hate you

how are you my brother–though

blood ties us, first born,

that is where the relationship ended

you chose chasing dragons

left me for mystic faerie stardust

like a changeling

I slept in the tree of despair

together: you say we love you

your actions betray the truth

you resent me my growth

I am not the daughter, sister, you knew

abandoned to the fire, silt and shame boiled out

cool independence, courage,

like a crucible

I was poured into a new form


one meal together after six years of jarring silence to pretend to like one another

one meal to sift through the garbage, fables and aggression

one meal to wear Kevlar

Copy Right Cheryl Folland 2016

This poem was penned from a memory of a moment. Written in from a place of frustration at the old patterns we can fall back into with family. I am happy to report that though this poem is entirely true of that moment, the family characterized in it has reached healing in so many ways.  I think that a lot of that has to do with the ability to work through things (first on our own and then together). Through poetry, I’ve been able to walk through moments and the emotions attached to them. By releasing them to the page, I am no longer inhibited or burdened by the trauma or the lingering doubt.


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