I am rail thin, days shy of one decade. Daughter of an almond-eyed beauty of raven hair. Sister of younger brothers—four in all are we. During afternoon walks to Edgewood Park, Terrence gifts me small leaves plucked from the shrubbery which surrounds the Victorian homes of Elm City New Haven. He whispers his five-year-old lisp, “Take this leaf, so you won’t die.” Peculiar words. A subtle haunting on my soul.
In his energy, he jumps the curve without looking, angering our mother, “Stop running into the street!” She places his hand under hers, a white-knuckle grip of frustration. She pushes my baby brother onward. Terrence offers me a side-glance, rolling his eyes at my freedom, at my ability to walk lockstep with our mother. He hates being bound…
Join me here: Altarwork.com for the rest of this guest post on the rawness of redemption.
ALTARWORK is an online magazine: a faith-collective of sorts featuring poetry, creative writing, photography, visual and performing arts–all curated by poet Jason Ramsey.