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7.7.17
When I think of my older sister,
the first thing that comes to my mind is a hurricane.
The way she is able to disrupt anyone in her path-
you know you’ll never be the same.
She draws you in,
sometimes unwillingly,
until you find yourself intentionally acting fool to grab her attention,
I swear her energy is so magnetic, you can get hooked on it
I’m addicted to her laughter.
My sister is a Beyoncé song on the radio,
you find yourself singing along
learning the words as you go,
eager to match the tempo, her personality is an echoing crescendo.
Janus girl- ever evolving.
My sister pokes me in the ribs knowing I’ll never be ticklish,
her body poised to run-away.
She never lets go of the aux chord,
likes to pick on me when she’s bored.
My sister, the trailblazer.
The adventurer that charted adulthood.
Her anger was the storm I was always seeking shelter from.
Her fist strike like lightning,
her moods fluctuate more than New Orleans weather
like Katrina, her silence overwhelms me.
My sister was slammed doors and teenage angst.
Me slipping notes under her door, too afraid of confrontation.
The wild thing I spent years carefully approaching.
Too beautiful and strange to stay away from, too volatile to come close.
She’s the grenade I wouldn’t mind catching with my bare hands.
But for all her shells, she’s as soft as the eggs she loves to munch on.
Sweeter than her cotton-candy grapes.
She’s salty, like the peanuts she tells my dad she wasn’t stealing.
My sister is a tonal language spoken with sharp words and arched eyebrows,
gruff apologies, clever threats, and maniacal laughter.
My older is sister is larger than life- my encyclopedia on how to fail
and still get back on track,
my sister is stronger than the butter containers holding Jollof rice,
the ones I swear we’ve had for decades.
I guess you could say my sister is beautiful,
if you mean hotter than the everglades.
She always keeps it together,
for that I’ll continue to look up to her.
My sister is a crowned, God-marked, passion driven, smart-ass wonder-woman.
I wouldn’t be me without her.
My sister is loved by a man who refuses to let her open her own doors.
My new brother is quiet,
and exudes chivalry out his pores,
honestly they’re kind of annoying.
It’s obvious how in love they’re in.
They have their own bubble,
it’s like a whole another world they’re in.
When I watch them I keep thinking,
Wow, my sister’s really leaving me.
She going to have her own family.
My hurricane finally found walls strong enough to shelter her heart in.
I wish I could guarantee to my sister that walls never crack,
but thank our parents we were raised on a solid foundation.
So, to my oldest sister on her wedding day:
I pray that your love is rooted in God.
That your cries are always laced with laughter
and that your hands are always ready to hold.
This little sister couldn’t be happier for you.
Photo byAndre Hunter