You asked me once upon a time
to be your mirror.
To see yourself in the brown of my autumnal eyes.
Yours are young, blue.
They beg reflection from my own.
You and I are history and beginning.
First to last.
Sister to sister.
Back to back.
Front to front.
Cervix to cervix.
Head to toe.
Past to future.
Together we make a poem,
already written, but, as yet, without end.
You are the first to whom I lost my heart in lullabies.
Sweet and soft.
Song of songs.
My sister-child.
Who gave to me the love I gave to her
in Spanish smiles and words
that rolled from our tongues.
Rimas de amor.
Flor a flor.
Felicidad y dolor.
Through the green of our days
until one day after the last summer game of
Ring Around Rosy,
you left to find the fountain of youth.
I stayed behind where Roses bloomed and Suns
followed in a row.
A part of you I wore, though,
like a cape around my body.
I used it to make other little flowers grow.
You taught me to love, care, teach, nourish.
The cape kept me near you.
Warm for many years.
Until one day, you returned,
a grown child-sister,
to the land of roses and suns,
to claim it as your own.
Now you wear the cape.
I have given it freely
for in its lining are seeds of change, growth.
With it around your body,
you will learn female secrets,
become a woman.
Separate, but never alone.
Woman-sister, my eyes will be your mirror.
Yours will mirror other flowers.
They, in turn, will mirror others
in that endless chain of female children
who must wear the cape to bloom.
One day, you will pass the cape to another.
Un regalo de amor.
Hermana a hermana.
Flor a flor.
Lynn Benjamin
1987
When my parents moved to Florida (1975), they took my youngest sister with them. She was about to start high school. I am fourteen years her senior so when she was born (1963), I pretended she was my baby. I adored her, and I missed her terribly when she moved to Florida as a teenager. At fourteen, I took my first Spanish language course in 9th grade. I was in love with the language, and I was in love with my baby sister. After she graduated college, she came north to live with my family. She was having mental health problems, and Bob and I were there for her. The allusions to roses and suns are to my children: Roseanne and her brothers, the sons. Sheryl adored her niece and nephews, and part of her healing process was to engage with them in many activities. Later, Sheryl married and had two lovely daughters of her own.