To my sister

dedicated to Jill Kettle

Dear sister, this is not about you
But I make you (woman) not safe.
Tonight I am touched,
as you reach out again,
as you gift me again
with a different experience
of woman.
And still you hold both for me:
Safety – unsafety
Being met
And not enough

As we ricochet out from trauma
what is it that we need?
Do I need this experience with you,
of something I can’t quite depend on,
that brings me to this edge –
Will I be met?
Or, being met inconsistently, is that OK for me?
Or, making that OK, how am I?
Have I negated my need again?
If your arms are not always there to catch me,
do you love me any the less?
Can I open my heart
to inconsistent arms?
To be held by a fallible human
To allow this (mother) to be enough?