“The Architect and the Daughter”
A short poem on family hierarchy, emotional distance, and the invisible labor behind who we become.
The way people greet you
they’d bow to a queen
they toss change in my bowl
like a peasant on the street
you smile before people speak
like you already know how it’ll end
you move like you’re born above it
my father’s eldest daughter
they fed me bitter pills
so you took the reins
of a family you thought you could control
I feel the distance you created
miles and miles of walls between us
The way people greet you
they’d bow to a queen
they toss change in my bowl
like a peasant on the street
I’m not asking for your refuge
or your understanding
I just want you to know where
you’re standing
I own the land your feet walk on
the clickity clack of your heels on marble floors
I dug the rock with my bare hands and turned it into tile
And laid it for your heels to cross
I molded you out of clay
and taught you a language
now you’ve invented fire
and think that makes you more
You can keep your polished gold
I’ll keep what’s in the walls
your pause before a decision
a hundred words untold
you can build a grand fire
and lock the guard door
you think you’ve built distance
-
but the room I’m in
has always been cold
Authors note: this is non fictional poetry about my older sister. if you’ve felt worthless or overshadowed by a sibling/siblings, feel free to share your experience in the comments.
