I died for Beauty, but was scarce adjusted in the Tomb when One who died for Truth was lain in the adjoining Room


Here is something no one knows about me:


There was a labyrinth in the garden of my home when I was in Africa and my first memory is of a swinging and “no girls allowed”, and bats that we saw and my mother didn’t when I watered plant leaves thinking they would grow if I made them shine and near the foam gutter and crane mysize and African faces. I couldn’t watch Jurassic Park but my older brother hummed the theme song to make us jealous by the small table where I cracked the jelly jar and the inside stayed a tube and I opened a huge box of minute furniture and walked in a market where people touched my hair. A Lebonese restaurant where I learned french fries and the check before the meal with heat and poor children dressed in only fragments of boxes and those who pretended to be blind and sold water bags and scrubbed the car window. Crying in a rocking chair being held asking if I was saved and racing my younger brother to the warm side of her bed before school where I wore a brown dress and wrote in a blue book and I climbed a tree with Annie thinking that I could be her friend because she was mad at Dragana because she had blonde hair and no one else did and someone’s house with trick or treating but no fortune teller because it might scare me in my wings that someone somehow found for me to wear Kofi’s beans and rice and no electricity wondering what MacDonald’s was and feeding monkeys but I wouldn’t hold the crocodile

Thinking now does anyone feel anything does anyone remember the sensation of Christmas morning or do they just see their brother’s expression and prick their insides until they feel what he felt but they never really knew like the pictures in a photo album looking lovely when I looked a little happier where I am now so I must have been any you say, yes I remember, because it pleases them and you like to know that was you who everybody watched over