We're the same you and I,
like two parallel lines that have coiled together.
We're robust.
We're barbed wire, you and I.
Sharp and tightly wound.
We built our Coro Houses on beds of discomfort,
motivated by loss and desperation, we sought redemption...
we were peacekeepers you and I.
Like two feathers off the back of the same dove,
we weather the storms in the hope that we'd fly.
We didn't.
We were grounded you and I.
Grounded by own inadequacy,
stuck in a rut dug by generations gone by.
With our finger nails, we built a ladder, you and I.
A ladder layered with expectation,
of I got it wrong where you got it right.
Where silent resentment climbed to take over our sight.
Even though we've got the same blue eyes...
you and I.
Your eyes, old before your time.
Mine young enough to notice.
You wearing your heart like a shield protecting mind.
We were dynamite, you and I.
A lethal mix of lost but not together.
Enemies born of the same army.
Soldiers in a fight that was never our own
We were militant, you and I.
Always one step away from combustion.
Malice on our tongue and fear in our fingers,
we counted our dead, we dug our ditches...
we were at war you and I.
Too strong for our own good and not strong enough.
So good at being good.
So carefully careful.
We were creators, you and I.
Fabricators of holistic wellbeing and organic juice.
We loved so we were unmoved, performed so we were untouched.
We were erosion, you and I.
Breaking down grime and decades worth of dust,
scouring the rock laden land for the ancient artefacts,
that brought us here...
We were archaeologists you and I.
Explorers of the heart and magicians of the mind.
With all of our tears tasting like blame, we were breaking,
you and I.
Like china dolls meant for display,
our fragility you could taste it,
none of us wise in our navigation, we followed our bloodshed,
you and I.
To a time that held secrets of two little girls,
where neither guilt nor competition took any growing ground,
where nothing made sense without the you or the I.
Like a complex puzzle, we're a simple fix.
I hold your heart within mine.
Shaken by the severest of storms, we were not sunk.
We're survivors you and I.
Dandelions, moved by the wind,
sharing the same field.
We were happy to come undone if it meant the other could grow.
We're life givers you and I.
Soul sisters, you and I.
Sisters, you and I.
Gemma Taylor despite constant scorn and painful jokes is proudly from the Waikato; although she is presently living in Auckland with her fingers in many pies. She is inspired by truth, creativity and connection. Gemma writes for buoyancy and hopes to one day live wholly by the ideas that she writes of.
Gemma Taylor's previous articles may be viewed at www.pressserviceinternational.org/gemma-taylor.html