The Sisters Return

The sisters have returned for their annual ritual,

standing on the shore,

holding hands as they watch the moon,

a silver quarter

rising on the dusking sky.

Their bodies tense as they wait,

a charge passes through their hands

as anxious finger squeezes;

first from Emily,

the oldest,

to Kate,

to Hope,

to Reese.

Then,

Emily yells, “Now!”

and they bolt,

wild women breaking out of the sand

and charging into the sea,

their linked hands severing for them to dive

into the wake of an impending wave,

changing in the silver water,

surfacing

as cackling children,

splashing each other

in celebration

of another ritual completed,

trapped in a time

where nothing matters

but

each other.

*

Dedicated to my sisters, I love you guys.

*

Artwork by Denis Korobkov