Love Letter To My Sisters

I am malfunctioning sponge
soaking up toxins
absorbing poison
ignoring vital functions
willfully neglecting
conversion and conservation 
distributing bad medicine
to my skeleton
I am not circulating antibodies
to supporting structures.

I am exposing my dirty hands 
knee jerk reacting
centering myself
in a universe 
of untold multitudes of suns
each emitting brightly 
celestial bodies throwing
her own shadows
on opposing planetary bodies
satellites dancing
constellation choreography 
it is unfair, but also fair 
for how can I be Sister
if only celebrating the expansion
while disregarding the contraction?

Best case scenario 
when splashdown occurs 
are our wounds transforming
into faint reminders
spectral pain transmuting us
into Alchemist Survivors.  
My once traveling companions 
moving in different orbits
know I am not following 
empty space between us growing
my love hanging between the stars
will be forever visible.