Because you can’t

I am surrogate

sister

mother

aunt

niece

I am limited-edition

confidence

trust

faith

I am love like

coffee

sweetened with saccharine

and powdered creamer

not quite what they hope for

but

a superior alternative to

nothing at all

I never ask them

to open their wounds for me

it is not requisite,

confession

before solidarity

I tell them it’s okay to breathe

most of them have forgotten

because it hurts

It hurts because they’ve betrayed you:

sister, mother, aunt, niece

and whether they meant to

is irrelevant

here

Maybe you still take their calls,

maybe you don’t.

Maybe you take mine instead

because you want to know

if they’re still alive.

You already know they’re still forsaken,

except by me

When they ask, I give them

food clothing mail a laundry voucher

or time at a phone or computer

Last week I gave two of them

time to inspect their feet for frostbite

a plastic tub full with clean, warm water.

Such basic courtesies

I love them because

I lost someone too

I tell you that,

but rarely them.

I judge neither them nor you,

I know my place:

The sacred ground of

loving anyway

The holy, liminal space of

Yet and Also.

I hold their hands there,

because you can’t anymore.