Anastasia

To my lovely late sister Anastasia. This is her story.

A tiny hand upon the phone,
My eyes wide with unveiled surprise
Sister, sister, female voice.
A high soprano; tinkling bells.
Anastasia, the princess.
She becomes real, real now.
Delicate ears quiver from the voice.
A high soprano; her tinkling bells.

Weeks age and leave us,
Months divorce and go their separate ways.
My eyes adapt to her backlit honey skin
And our laughs harmonize.
She feels at home.
We're all at home....

Anna she is.
Once frightened of a light too bright,
The princess morphs into an Anna.
Ambitions, goals. Fierce determination grazes the pieces beneath her mane.
Our souls are careless wisps of smoke now.
No one can touch us.
We're evanescent, breathing next to the wind.

Leaves begin to flow through crisp airs, tinged with autumn's sunlight.
Scary rides, a dozen laughs.
The rise and fall of the infatuated.

An adolescent hand upon the phone,
My eyes wide with unveiled surprise.
Father, father, wearied voice.
A depressing barotone; words like knives.
Minutes pass like hours,
Hours pass like funless years.
I can't move, I can't breathe.
She couldn't be gone- all life without her....

Screaming icy withered hands.
Eyes with alabaster, colder than dry ice.
We're wounded.

Anna doesn't laugh anymore.
Her body is a turkey burned on Thanksgiving.
Her teeth and backlit honey skin are delicate ashes; tasteless and cloudy.

Something gone wrong with healing.
I can't bring myself to look to the sky.
I'm too angry to speak with God.
Her screams fill my head and becomes my voice.
I can't breathe,
I can't breathe.

All the seasons seem too cold.
The light gone from the world.
I can't look my father in the eyes.
The sorrow is like sulfur to my pupils.
We're dead and mourning.
I'm cold as winter steel.
We stopped talking about her.
Car rides once filled with sounds and laughter's children become desolate and worth nothing.

I dream she's alive,
Then cry when I'm awake.
The mirror is a liar.
I don't look so good.

She's lighter than the lightest of airs now,
I visit her jade pot and whisper warm secrets and cold nothings.
She doesn't laugh and answer back.
Stolen by cackling fire.
Her voice fades from memory.

Heart attacks lay me down.
Hopeless feelings fuel my mutilation.
I tear at myself. I tear at myself...
Anna she remains- Anna.
No choice, dreams cut short.

Ambitions, once vast, clear, crystal lakes... now dry up and become ghosts of a fallen angel.

My words and fuel absence fueled my hatred.
I had the courage to admit what grown folks hide within.
I never told her but she won't stop disappearing.
My mind stiffens and chokes out lies.

Thought I saw her....
But she's left me behind.
Everything seems colder now.
Lifeless life. Lightless sun.
I love her. I forgave her.
Anna she remains.

by Yami Tenshi

Comments (1)

For the first time in my life so far..... I am speechless. I don't think that my opinion matters because that is clearly not what this poem is for. Just know that your sister would appreciate it. Yours Aye Thomas Vaudin