It’s hearing my brothers name
on the radio.
           Tommy Sullivan.
His sister telling stories
his life …. lost in 911.
He worked for the stock exchange
           had a breakfast meeting that morning.
                        now he’s gone.

I couldn’t tell you how many times
     I’ve lost my brother
           Tommy Sullivan.
     Heart attack at 21
        Jaws of life at 18
A nickles worth spent in the state
    pen, before the age of 30.

It’s coming from a place in
the midwest that everyone thinks
they’ve heard of, some can
pronounce and even fewer
have visited.
Often confusing my home town
with a town in Wisconsin of the same name
just spelled different.

It’s wondering what time ticks
     when no one is looking….
       and will it ever
         just run away?

It’s cobbled streets……
rain,
somehow like stars
stirring up all my
demons and fears
taking words away
and offering magic
to passers by

It’s befriending the Banshee,
the Reaper, and Death
caring for them as they
continue to pass me by.

It’s this breath that has
entered my bones time
and time again
explored my marrow
and made me a yellow
sickness….
gave me obstacles to overcome
and answers to pursuit.

It’s learning the chant
that allows healing to pass
thru the eyes and believing
it’s in my path to be humble.

It’s needing more than I can ask for
and less than I really want.

It’s a child searching his mother’s
belly button.
It’s knowing when you need to leave.

It’s peer thru archway
terra cotta, mint green into
bedroom yellow
salmon comforter
propped up pillows
and patched jeans

It’s leaving nothing behind
with out the memory of it.
It’s finding my voice in the
sand.
It’s throwing everything
into the sea.

Sally Sullivan

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