“To Build A Home”

By Isabel Sharma

i. 

To my sister:

as you grow old,

as you grow real,

as you touch the soul of the earth

with your bright color and sweet laugh.

To my grandmother:

as you grow old,

as your voice softens, but your words remain strong,

as you rest with us like we did with you when we were too young to hold ourselves.

To my mother:

as you grow old,

as you lift us up while the earth pushes harder against your tired bones,

as you watch your children become what you taught them to be.

To my brother:

as you grow old,

as you smile more and frown still more,

as you learn how to love and how to let go.

To my father:

as you grow old,

as you find the peace you built,

as you discover a new world through your children's eyes.

To my grandfather:

as you grow old,

as your boldness becomes less tangible, but your spirit still touches everyone that hears your laugh,

as you begin a new life in your children and grandchildren.

ii.

I grow old too.

I let my hands rest against the ground

and let the earth fold over me

and as I grow old, the world is my home and my coffin.

I am the river,

I am the wind,

I am the fiery-colored leaves crackling against the sidewalk.

I am the earth that wriggles underneath my fingernails,

I am the dust that coats my shoes.

I am the way that I dance in front of the mirror when no one is around,

I am the love I have for taking pictures of the sunset.

I am the way I can't resist the warm taste of a brownie,

I am the laugh that takes over my lungs every time I think of a bad joke.

iii.

I am the way my sister loves stuffed animals and colorful mushrooms.

I am the way my grandmother taught me to love languages.

I am the way my mother's text messages feel like home even when I am hundreds of miles away.

I am the way my brother's smile makes me feel like I have a purpose.

I am the way my father's calm penetrates my anxiety.

I am the way my grandfather's love of learning lives on in my passion.

iv.

Our souls live together, colorful and bold,

rising and rising and evaporating,

aging and aging and seeping into the cracks of the house.

our words, laughs, memories

evanesce into dust, coalesce into humanity.