I would rather be a window than a wall. You could see through me then
and it would matter
to both of us in different ways. Before I was born I had not been meant
to be. Do you think you would have fared
better if I was never a limb on this fragile family tree? Sorrow
still settles like shadows at the roots, leaves gather and I
marvel at the tenacity of regret. When I was a child
the window was my channel to the world. The highway, so far
down below, taunted me, seduced me, invited itself into
my DNA. I left you as soon as I could. And after
all this time I would still rather
be a window than a wall. Brother, I will forgive
myself for being this restless, solitary seeker on the wind.
Choose your color now. Don’t forget your roots, nor your dreams.
Don’t forget you love me. Be a window. Open that sucker up.