by Sierra Karas
About Abigail Munson
Black coffee, tar
Big Georgia house, full
Alone moments, stolen
– – – – – – – –
She stands in front of her mirror self,
Concerned with the future,
Dreams carved out of the wood banisters,
Keepsakes gathered from a forgotten barn—
Life on hold,
Furniture mimicking life,
What does it take for you to get up and leave?
Now she’s established,
Together, but not too together,
And believes you should never give up,
This you already know,
Maybe you don’t care,
Why do we always make a habit of simplifying people,
You are your favorite color,
You are the school you go to,
You are nothing else,
This isn’t true, but nobody seems concerned with true truths,
We want people to fit into containers,
Always unpacking, not repacking
Do you leave destruction in your wake or do you pick up after yourself?
Many don’t realize that we are just as much the questions we ask as we are the answers.
Four sisters, one brother.
Daren, Isabel, Abigail, Madeline, Lydia.
I will say this once more so you hear:
This is not who you are.
Who are you?