I am, you lonely one*

by Christy O’Callaghan

Didn’t you see me listening to you sing

that song you learned from your mom’s van radio?

Watching you swing from energetic static

to a melted pit of anguish when your power got cut.

Didn’t my reaching open hand

show you I was here?

Am I only the sister you searched for once the others burned out?

But my hand’s grown cold 

holding onto your rainbows, hearts, and green clovers.

Objects turned into candy-coated plastic

once bright enough to obscure our view.

Could you ever truly see me

past the pain you needed to escape?

And with that question suspended, I know

someday you will tell me when we meet again

among the stuff of stars.

*Inspired by Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem “I am, you anxious one.”

~

Christy O’Callaghan is a writer and developmental editor in Upstate NY. For two decades, she was a community organizer and educator. Christy loves strange stories, plants, and lore. Her work has appeared in The Los Angeles Review, Great Weather for Media, Trolley Journal, Under the Gumtree, Chestnut Review, among others. Visit christyflutterby.com for more information.