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| Sisters by © arhllm Grew up wanting to be the cowboy, not the Indian, to you being the big sister. Always waiting for our lives to meet. Hiding behind the truth of who I was. Little sister six inches taller, reading, the flashlight's beam hiding the boots and clutter of the closet's floor, the book's words become real. Searching for the honesty of who we were, in the glaring light of who we weren't. The sky swallows me whole. I find the picture of us. You in front, me in back, the image of my cowboy boots a shadow in my eyes. I reach over,take my daughters' hands and wonder, who of these two, was the Indian with dreams of being the cowboy. |