Siblings

All Poems, Anniversaries, Birthdays, Memories, Mother Love, Pleasure, Siblings, Spirituality

Bouquet

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My sister and her husband arrived with a bouquet.

Revealing all the colors of June.

Illuminating the kitchen, buoying spirits.

Daisies, mums, Peruvian lilies.

Snapdragons, Japanese irises.

A toast to our dual festivities.

Birthday and wedding anniversary.

Only last week.

Already marked at the seashore.

But, they persisted.

Despite the cruelty of racing time.

Their own health issues.

Busy schedules.

Sibling and her mate.

Filling the gap.

Where our own mother used to stand.

At the forefront of congratulations.

Making sure each occasion acknowledged.

Duly noted.

Be it with party, card, dinner, gift.

So, there it was.

Perfume in a vase.

Wafting felicitations.

And memories of our mother.

A special visit remembering us

with a floral serenade.

Who expected maternal breath

to help us celebrate?

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 23, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Birthdays, Siblings

Joyous Occasion

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It was, indeed, a joyous occasion.

My sister turning seventy.

I, five years her senior.

Remembering her return from the hospital.

Her jaundice, transfusion.

My mother’s long illness.

Landing her in bed.

Yet, here we are.

Baby sister, well.

Three score, ten.

Aging like the rest of us.

Sibling group still intact.

No holes in the cloth.

Taken care of, washed, hung to dry.

Ironed, folded, treasured.

Too bad parents not with us,

sharing in each milestone.

But I’m sure their spirits hover.

We’re never here alone.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 24, 2024

All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Santa Monica 3/24, Siblings, Trips and Places

Seagulls and Pigeons

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Seagulls and pigeons on Santa Monica’s pier watch people.

As much as people watch them.

Just like I watch the grandchildren on 14th Street.

They watch me.

Ask about my age.

Flowers on my shirt, my hat.

My furrowed face.

But, I think I have the better deal.

Watching a sibling group coalescence.

Without being sibling or mother.

A step away as grandparent.

Seeing rivalry for a parent’s attention.

For equal time, rights.

Sometimes one getting another into trouble.

To provoke disapproval on a parent’s face.

Or showing tenderness, one toward the other.

Offering to help.

Sometimes wanting to be the other.

The eldest or the baby.

Or even the middle.

To achieve a gymnastic feat.

Or solve a problem.

Or, act as helpless as the toddler.

Push, pull of needing, not needing.

Squabbling, sharing.

Teaching, learning.

Thousands of stitches each day.

Producing a unique pattern.

Tight, taut, colorful.

Enduring longer than the parent-child bond.

But, in the day-to-day, who thinks about it?

Only later, at rupture, does the hole become apparent.

Irreparable, tattered, torn.

Early on, threads breathe,

providing an organic net.

Familiarity and protection,

spinning yarns to ne’er forget.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 30, 2024

 

All Poems, Art/Arts, Siblings, Wisdom

How Did They Do It?

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How did they do it?

Arthur Marx and Alex Fisher?

Manage to pack Groucho Marx’s life into two hours?

With a twenty minute intermission?

Clearly, they were a talented team.

This production at the Walnut, penetrating.

Capturing story, humor, pathos.

In an economical, entertaining way.

Uproarious laughter from the crowd bespeaking success.

I, too, appreciating jokes.

Ad libs.

Piano and harp.

But, mostly touched by the sibling connection.

Five brothers, three on stage.

For a sibship is complex.

Affectionate.

Competitive.

Playful.

Loyal.

For many, the longest relationship they have.

More years than parent-child.

Marital.

Friend.

When a link in that chain breaks, the blow, heavy.

What was once robust, weakened.

No longer functional.

At the end, Groucho, in old age, mourns twice.

His brother Chico’s death.

Never telling Chico he loved him.

A strong message to us all

whether in bonds with sibs or not.

Don’t wait until life’s over

to express your heartfelt thought.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 4, 2024

 

Groucho, A Life In Revue, The Musical, played at the Walnut Street Theater on the 100th anniversary of the Marx Brothers musical comedy revue at the Walnut, I’ll Say She Is. Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Zeppo then took  the show to Broadway.

 

 

All Poems, Birthdays, Emotions, Siblings, Wisdom

My Brother’s Birthday

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Today’s my brother’s birthday.

Seventy-two years.

Born when I, two-and-a-half.

Though my memories vague till he, older.

Knocking on bedroom walls with a secret language.

Playing with friends in the neighborhood.

Collecting praying mantises, butterflies.

Bonding in misery at overnight camp.

Taking a college art class with the same teacher.

Supporting him into young adulthood.

While I proceeded into marriage, child rearing.

Watching him settle down, marry.

Later, leading seminars with him on mentalism, intuition.

But, it bothers me, I don’t recall his birth.

How I reacted to having a new brother.

Was I jealous?

Nurturing?

Accepting?

It never occurred to me.

To ask my parents how I responded.

A first child toward a second.

Now not possible.

Which only goes to show

when children neglect to ask,

answers are forever lost,

as family elders pass.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 28, 2024

 

 

All Poems, Family, Grandchildren, Mexico, Playa del Carmen, Siblings, Stories, Trips and Places, Wisdom

Empathy and Sympathy

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Twin themes, empathy and sympathy, popped up all week.

Liora’s strong empathy for stray animals.

For downtrodden, weak.

For dispossessed, brutalized.

For victims of colonialism, war.

But, on a walk, Elias confided.

It was hard to discuss sensitive topics with his sister.

For though her empathy expansive, she was short on sympathy.

Which, he went on, was necessary to complete a picture.

To understand both sides of a complex issue.

I commended him for his insight.

For the explanations he provided.

Especially when later, he applied them to himself.

As he laboriously folded clean clothes.

Putting them into his suitcase.

Now I know how Mom feels, he said.

Twice each week, when she folds clothes.

There he stood, right in her shoes.

Feeling boredom, tedium.

But sympathetic, too.

Knowing it had to get done!

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 28, 2024

 

 

 

All Poems, Health/Illness, Humor, Panic, Siblings, Sister Love

My Sister Went Down

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I shrieked, shrill, high-pitched.

Agitating tranquil breezes.

After only a few steps, exiting the doctor’s office.

As my sister, whom I escorted there, went down.

Losing her balance removing the K-N95.

Which she obediently wore.

Told to do so in her reminder phone call.

Though once inside, finding it optional.

There she was beside me.

On the ground.

Managing to keep her neck tilted, crown above the sidewalk.

So as not to hit the cement.

A driver from a transit service came running.

Offered her his arm to stand.

Dust off the sudden loss of equilibrium.

I’m okay, she reassured us, pushing him away, herself up.

Nothing serious. Maybe a bit sore.

I inhaled the damp, biting air.

Relieved she wasn’t hurt.

On my watch.

So, I said to her, Dad would be proud.

Her face clouded, confused, what do you mean?

I answered, well, you protected your head. I watched your maneuver.

Going on to explain, when I broke my pelvis, Dad scolded me.

For not knowing how to fall!

She laughed.

I joined her.

For though tripping right beside me,

my sister knew what to do.

Held head high, jumped right up,

dismissing all rescue.

 

Lynn Benjamin

 

8, 2023

 

All Poems, Food, Holidays, Jewish Holidays, Siblings, Sister Love

My Sister Brings Fruit

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In recent years, my sister brings fruit to holiday dinners.

Mostly because she doesn’t cook.

It’s easy to order a tray of cut fruit.

For the requisite finale at family gatherings.

This year, though, our Rosh Hashanah gathering is smaller.

Daughter, off to be cantor at a shul in Connecticut.

Sons, in distant states.

So, the full tray a bit too much.

How about four pints of berries? I asked her a few months ago.

Sure, she agreed.

But, this morning, she called.

Prefaced the conversation with this might sound strange.

Then asked, how much is a pint of fruit?

Rather than explaining pints and quarts, I pivoted to packages.

Just bring four packages of berries. In any combination.

For example, two strawberry, one blueberry, one raspberry.

Or, whatever looks best.

She hesitated, but said, okay.

New Years is a time to learn new things.

A grandson, starting college.

A daughter, leading services.

Bob, changing a toilet seat.

My sister, choosing fruit.

It’s not a time to judge others.

Only to take stock inside.

Be honored that a person trusts,

feels safe to share, confide.

Hold another’s doubt with care

as though ceramic, and could break.

Once fallen and in pieces,

hard to rebuild, and remake.

All of us confront not knowns

whether simple or complex.

Be kind to others and to self.

For new learning can perplex.

 

Lynn Benjamin

September 16, 2023

 

 

All Poems, Memories, Siblings

My Sister and I Walk

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My sister and I both walk.

A kind of vitamin with immediate effect.

Stretching legs, swinging arms, calming mind.

Rarely, though, do we wander side by side.

Sometimes, stroll together while on the phone.

For the distance between our homes is great.

But, yesterday, the time was right.

She led the way.

Through her neighborhood.

Jacob’s Woods.

Where our parents once lived.

Upon their return from Florida.

She took me past their old apartment.

On North Bend Court.

Where a statue of a monk waved.

He looks like Daddy, my sister said. Doesn’t he?

I stopped to peer.

Studying the face.

The beard, the eyes, the robe.

My first inclination, a scoff.

Our father? In monk’s garb?

But, the suggestion settled in.

The second-time round, I agreed.

There awaited us, our father.

Sending wishes of Godspeed.

 

Lynn Benjamin

August 28, 2023

Adult Children, All Poems, Cousins, Family, Grandchildren, Grandparents, Siblings, Sleep

How to Make Room

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At the table, my son and his wife ponder.

How can we make room for additional guests?

Two siblings and a few more children?

So they can see each other?

So the cousins can recognize kin?

So they can frolic?

For my son and his family had traveled far.

From Los Angeles to Montreal.

Then by car to Vermont.

Finally, Burlington to Philadelphia.

To our three-bedroom condo.

With an extra room in the basement.

All spaces already filled.

Grandchildren on all levels.

Including on the floor of the master bedroom.

How to fit yet more?

Put another mattress on the basement floor?

Consolidate the infant with his parents?

Thus, freeing a bed?

Who was willing to sacrifice comfort?

For connection?

Though the outcome isn’t clear,

siblings work on what to do.

Calculate possibilities.

Beds and mattresses review.

As they think on it and brainstorm,

my mind somersaults in play.

Remembering George Herbert:

Where there’s a will, there’s a way!

 

Lynn Benjamin

April 19, 2023