My Sister

i look at the picture of me when i was about one year old, next to my sister. she is holding my cheek, gently presssing her fingers into my soft cheek. it is as if she turns my face toward whatever comes from what’s in front of us. and her face looks closed, a soul safe within. but my face is all open, my mouth, my eyes. and whatever will hurl its powers towards us, it will bounce off her but it will enter me. i have no defenses at all, no, my face is inviting whatever may come


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