The Ruler

In her chamber at the foot of the stairs
Where light breaks into individual pigments
My sister is ruling a minature kingdom.

I pause near her room, hearing
Through the door to her endless corridor a tiny whisper
Like a crowd of voices being heard from a great distance.

Young as she is, the weight
she bears is great, and some of it heavy:
I wish her happiness in her toilsome position.

But now it is she who pauses
As if to listen to the annoucement of a visitor.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be waiting in suspense,
And a hum of noise trickles out like an awakened
beehive, and again is silent.

I remember the timid manner of this now strong personage
Which once slept in this room with pink blankets and bunnies.
How we snuck in, lifted a sheet

And dashed out, not to awaken it;
And how for a whole hour, we held our breath,
As we watched the wild creature

Sit up and rub its eyes
Batter against the shock of the morning light, drop like a
feather
To the soft womb of its own trapped body heat,

And wait then, restless and annoyed,
For the comforting wave to hit her again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It pulled itself up into the tiniest ball,
Beating back the enemy light with its airfoil
And clearing the path for yet unreached plains.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of remembering your vulnerability as well as your strength, as I had
forgotten.
I wish what I wished you before, but harder.