Poetry For Our Time

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason. -Novalis

For My Brother

with 4 comments

For thirteen years,
I have felt guilty
about ripping
that drawing you made
of me wearing clothes
from The Limited.
My twelve-year-old brain and
twelve-year-old hormones
couldn’t process
how you saw me.
All I knew is that
I was awkward,
and still am,
and those clothes
from The Limited
were the only ones I could find
that fit me
and I thought that you
were just making fun
of my awkwardness.

You were never awkward,
and still aren’t.
You just take the world
as you see it,
accept what you cannot
control and do what you
have to so your dreams
come alive.

Thirteen years ago,
I wanted nothing
but thirteen years to pass,
or maybe just to be
more like you.
Now, I find myself wishing
for a picture
of my twelve-year-old self
wearing clothes from The Limited
so I could say,
“This was me once,
in the eyes of my brother.”


Written by Ashley

February 10, 2009 at 2:10 pm

Posted in Poem

4 Responses

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  1. Brothers are curious things. I think the brother-sister relationship is underexplored…brother to brother and sister to sister have their own characteristics and special features, but brother to sister is totally different….as one of these myself, I feel the strange distance yet closeness–jealousy, yet admiration, yet guilt that go along with the history wrapped up in these relationships.


    February 10, 2009 at 4:38 pm

  2. i love how this displays the awkwardness everyone feels at that age.


    February 11, 2009 at 1:34 am

  3. Also Becky, the older brother versus younger brother relationships. Being an older sister, I often wonder what it would have been like to be protected by an older brother, though in that same vain, I feel awfully protective of my younger sibling. There is indeed an interesting dynamic in both instances.


    February 11, 2009 at 4:11 am

  4. I agree with you Amanda. I also totally relate to the episode this poem is about–there are a few things I feel guilty about doing to my brother (I think I hit him, one time, and then cried for like 3 hours)–then you know, years later I try to say “I’m really sorry I did that thing to you,” and he has no idea what I’m talking about. Punishing myself all these years for nothing!


    February 11, 2009 at 10:23 pm

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