:::Streaming Waters:::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Last time I saw this
I was no more than two.
I stand here now
watching it move.
Someone stands down at the edge
with long hair
and a shadow of an angel.
I look away
then look back;
He is gone.
I wait to see
if he comes back
But he never does
and never will.
The water moves slower now;
a new face lurks around.
A young girl
No more than five.
I watch her play at the waterside.
The man is back again.
He is playing alongside her
His face is alight.
The girl runs into the water
And never comes back up.
The man looks at me;
I at him.
It is my brother I see.
He smiles and follows our sister.
Never coming back.
His last words before he left
was a simple little sentence.
“We will wait for you at heavens gates.”
I watch the river move,
with tears in my eyes.
My brother
My sister.
Both are gone, at birth.
I watch the river
All was well
But then I ran
And jumped in too
I started to drowned
But my brother saved me.
He said something
That stuck with me ever since.
“Your time isn’t up until it is up.”

I wrote this poem for my brother and sister, who died at birth.

If they had lived I would be a middle child.

I miss them, but up in heaven they are safe from humans sin.