when i was a little girl
you would wake me up
every full moon
so we could howl together
with the coyotes
a little girl in pajamas
sleep in the corners of my eyes
shuffling over grass to the place
in the front yard set apart
from the rest
the howling post
a little spot of sacred ground
circle of hope and sadness
the birth and loss of another month
the moon, she knows the howling
the family standing in the yard
in the small texas town
when the moon was undressed
it was time to pay homage to her
then things changed as they do
lives in constant evolution
there was no more howling
the silence an eerie indicator
to stop howling meant separation
and separation meant loneliness
i was a little girl begging for hugs
birthday cards lost in the mail
gifts given with stipulations
the missing phone calls
you were the wind
just movin’ on down the line
i was just expendable
the throw away kid
too young to do much good
i did all i could
adapting at best
taking care of the little one
the tiny sister unable do it alone
the mother shattered by loss
locked away drunk, high, angry in her room
only learning you were in town
by the cruelty inflicted by your mother
bringing an audience to smile and laugh
at my gut wrenching pain and waterfall tears
your return was an unexpected surprise
there was no way to pause and restart
only forward momentum, no stopping to breathe
humiliation, rejection, passive aggressive actions
words said in a jeep on christmas
expression of hatred for the innocent
breaking the contract of compromise
it was my turn to forget and abandon
almost a decade of denial,
refusal to acknowledge you
sitting in my silent sadness
drowning in a pool of resentments
another evolution of life and love
the turning of the wheel of fate
forgiveness, comfort, empathy
your mortality evident and undeniable
you were not the god i made you
you were like the rest of us
fallible, arrogant, beautiful human
conversations in the backyard
phone calls during gunsmoke
songs sent through email
an understanding and acceptance
3 years of friendship and reality
listening to stories of the past
these times are the first in my memory bank
there are times i still cry, missing you
there are times i laugh, missing you
i still look at a full moon hanging in the sky
remembering the sound of your voice
and the twinkle in your blue eyes
and i howl from the depths of my soul