The Observer
By: Don Pax
I stand before the mirror, my reflection unclear,
“Brother,” I whispered, but the word tasted of fear.
Can I truly claim this title, so easily said?
When behind closed doors, my love lies dead.
My sister’s tears, I’ve caused them to fall,
Yet I smile and hug her in the crowded hall.
My words are daggers, sharpened in the dark,
On her heart, they leave an invisible mark.
I remember the day we promised to care,
Hand in hand, a bond beyond compare.
But now I gossip, I judge, I tear her down,
All while wearing a supportive crown.
Can I be a brother? Can I be a sister?
When my actions betray, my words just blister?
I cradle the phone, spreading whispered lies,
Then meet their gaze with caring eyes.
Oh, the weight of this mask I wear,
It suffocates the love that should be there.
I want to scream, to shed this fake skin,
To wash away the stain of my sin.
In the silence of night, I hear their cries,
The pain I’ve caused never dies.
Can I mend the hearts I’ve carelessly broken?
Heal the wounds of words harshly spoken?
I fall to my knees, tears finally flow,
For the brother, the sister I’ve failed to show.
The mirror shatters, and I see my soul bear.
A fractured family, in need of repair.
Can I change? Can I be true?
To the love and support long overdue?
I reach out, trembling to bridge the divide,
Praying they’ll let me stand by their side.
Brother, sister. More than just a name,
A sacred bond I’ve put to shame.
But from these ashes, I vow to rise,
A true brother, a true sister, with no more lies.
The bond