We
We were there when you began.
Soft and warm and wrapped up like a present.
I remember how it felt, awkward and sticky as you texted your first middle school boyfriend.
You rely on one of us more than the other, but we’re not mad about it. We’ll be there for you either way.
We remember the pounding on the table; that you did as your mother brushed your over-grown sunshine hair.
We remember the feeling of failing those tests—a paper cut on an alligator of an education.
We’ve looked our best, for you. When you’ve decided the night is important.
We are the color of your mood each week—but sometimes neglected and forgotten.
In the winter we grow cold as most people do, and in the summers we lead you through cool water.
We’ve gotten stronger and tougher as the years blink away.
And we’ve taken and given more than we could ever say. We can’t say.
We know what it’s like, to feel the back of your lover’s head, the way you so admire.
We cut, we crack, we bleed.
We caress, act on ignorance and virtue, and fold in truth and desire.
We’re close to your chest as you plead to the sky.
We embrace everything, without ever asking why.
We are your hands, and we’re always at the end of your arms.
Poem by Anonymous SBU Student