Brown Bag Poetry (4/21)

1.

my sister turns 16
years old next week.
she is no longer the
little pip-squeak,
squealing about Barney
and Barbie and having
to eat her vegetables.
she is practically a
woman.

she is definitely
a teenager. i've had to
tell her several times
that our parents are not
the enemy. she doesn't
buy it, but at least she
still talks to me.

last week, she
told me about two boys
who are vying for her
attention. i freaked out.
it's not just the parents who
worry for their daughter's
well-being. i'm terrified
for her, because i know the
sick, perverted twists and
turns the mind of a
teenage boy takes;
after all, i was one.

soon she will be driving,
and like her parents, i will
worry about her safety.
soon she will start dating,
and like her parents, i will
fulfill my fraternal responsibility
to scare the hell out of any boy
that dares consider touching her.
soon she will be graduating,
and like her parents, i will
wonder if i did everything i could
to be a good example, to give her
good counsel, to be her protector
when she needed one, and her
motivator when she needed one.

my sister turns 16 next week.
and i realize now that i
don't have too long left
to be the brother that she
needs me to be.

2.

if belief in the Son of God
is an anti-intellectual choice,
and the powers and rulers of
this present age demand
i choose between "reason" and faith,
then i renounce the cool chic
and smug self-satisfaction
of intellect,
for the icy embrace of
knowledge cannot approach
the warmth of the
love of the most high God.
does this negate my right
to debate the big questions
with the big brains of
my generation? it shouldn't.
but if your bias against the
Unseen clouds your view of my
worthy participation in the
Grand Discourse, so be it.
but understand that it is you
who will be the poorer for it.

3.

do you still know me?
did you hear me screaming out
your name in the wasteland?
did you see my tears drop
into the ashes at my feet?
did you watch me
mix them to make paste,
smear it across my blind eyes,
and wash it off in the dark river,
praying, pleading, for new sight?
will you be my vision now?
it's hard to take your hand and
trust you, when you've lead me
right into sharp edges before.
yes, they made me stronger,
but they also made me more
hesitant. if doubt is sin, then
i am unclean, but i have come
by it honestly.

despite my grave misgivings,
i stretch my trembling hand
out to you again.