Esther

I have forgotten who I am,
Haunted by the ghost of my good uncle.
Who am I?
I am for such a time as this.
It is true, and yet it drives
Memory from my face.
When the spirits of terror are absent
In the dull cold hours
Only then when my heart is hidden,
Do I see the phantom dreams
Of golden sighing over sunsets
With my sisters,
And the crushing of ripe
Tomatoes on empty bowls.
I think of brothers who
Called again and again,
Eliciting brave arrows from
Oval eyes.
I remember sweat and heat,
Running for the freedom of laughter.
I remember dandelions and dew.
I remember blue horses tilting their minds onto me
So that our dreams ran together
As one.
I am for such a time as this,
But much more
Much more than the whispering
Of a good ghost and
Kneeling before the power of lust.
For this and more,
God only knows.