Yesterday was Sibling Day,
Father God, what can I say?
You know the pain
that comes my way
when I look at this photo
that I have saved.
My mom was a child,
she was just fifteen.
She was lost and confused
when she had me,
but she and my dad
we’re young in love
they made a plan
to get it done.
Abortion was pressed
by the adults in their lives,
but they would not have it
despite the strife.
So they married and tried
to build a life,
two broken souls
became husband and wife.
Without direction
they made a mess of things,
another child,
and divorced in four years.
I’ll never forget
the memory of my dad
pounding on the back door,
crying to come in, 
but the lady she became
was selfish in every way,
she laughed in his face
and then he walked away.
So my brother and I,
we endured
the life of two kids
under single motherhood.
She partied and drank,
nurturing children
became a bother.
She locked us in our room,
just me and my brother.
We screamed and knocked
asking to be let out,
but she did not hear us,
she left us to rot.
It was only a weekend
that I can recall
but the shame that came
from urinating on our clothes,
brought up feelings
of being abandoned.
Then she got remarried
to my stepdad.
He was always aloof
to the life we had.
They had a son,
that brought joy to my life,
“His name is Johnny”
was announced when I was nine.
I became a mom
at such a young age,
protecting my brothers,
from the sins of man.
Between the drugs and the men,
that filled our house,
I was always a warrior
on the lookout.
I failed my brothers
when I fell to sin.
I became focused on self,
and let life in.
I had my own life
that I had to live,
even though I know
it’s not my fault,
it still eats me from within.
My mom divorced again
when I turned fifteen.
She was out every night
living the bar scene.
And at 2 am,
when it was last call,
she would bring them home,
and the party would roll.
I remember walking the streets,
until the school bell rang,
then I would go to class
and pretended I was okay.
When I was sixteen
I met a boy,
and his family took me in.
I’ll never forget
the first Christmas
when they bought me winter boots
and other special things.
I was so overwhelmed
by the kindness they showed,
they treated me like an equal,
instead of a “ho”.
For so long
I was an object
for men to explore,
and then reject.
So I left my house,
and went to live with them,
they introduced me to the dreams
I had when I was a kid.
When I was a child
And would often write poems
About a life filled peace,
and love and hope. 
So my life went on,
and I lived the dream,
I was accepted into college
and it boosted my self-esteem.
But there was a big difference
between “me” and “them”;
the people in school came from wealth
and I came from “low income”
It’s amazing to me,
how life labels us,
because in the end
we all turn to dust.
Anyway,
let me move on,
My first sibling
is the only one that lives on.
He’s had nine lives,
to say the least.
He lives fractured inside,
under the beast.
I’ve tried to help
in a million ways,
he will not accept
the type of love I relay.
He will not receive
unless it’s done his way.
I had to set boundaries
and walk away.
The baby in the picture
is my brother's son.
He died of cancer
when he was eleven.
Christopher was his name,
He was an angel of God.
His beautiful heart
was one to applaud.
He brought joy to my life,
in such a strong way,
his laughter was infectious,
I can’t wait to see him someday.
The blonde boy in the picture
is my baby brother.
He is my heart
and will be there forever.
He died at twenty-three,
after living a short life
that was filled with hurt
and great strife.
He knew the worst in people.
He was viciously abused
by the walking dead,
who are under the curse.
He was raped and afflicted,
by the demon-possessed,
and will take me a lifetime
to forgive and forget.
I blamed my mom
for the mess we were in.
I was angry and hurt
by the life she brought us in.
There was a time
when I wanted her to die.
I thought to myself,
“If only she had tried.”
But then the Lord blessed me
by putting me near her,
when I moved to Nevada
she got cancer.
I was the only one
who could take care of her.
She had just turned 50
when meth took its toll,
the cancer metastasized
and took her whole.
I had forty days
to make my amends
I cared for her fully,
and the hurts were forgiven.
I saw the broken girl
that was buried within.
I felt her brokenness
and saw generational sin.
The feeling of abandonment
cuts straight to the soul,
when we are divided from the one
who makes us whole.
It hurts to the core,
when you’ve been let down,
but it hurts even deeper
when you're totally alone. 
So as I look at this picture,
and see that three are now dead,
I pray to God
they have chosen to bow down to him.
I also ask for divine intervention
for my brother who still lives,
I don’t know how to help
without enabling him.
As for this lady,
who was once that little girl,
I commit my spirit
to the one who makes
all things whole.
I no longer feel abandoned
because I know who my father is.
He’s the one that gives life
to all that lives.  
He has never left me
nor forsaken me.
He’s always been there.
He's always cared for me.
I felt his love as a small child,
and his peace when I was just twelve.
Just four years ago,
I saw Jesus on the boardwalk
and it's his hand that I held.
I am so blessed to say
the spirit of abandonment stops with me.
I’ve identified the culprit
in my family tree.
The demon of rejection
is not welcome in.
I cast him out
in the name of HIM. 
The him that is above
every other name.
The him that will never
quit the game.
The him that endures
all troubles of this life.
The him that makes peace
out of strife.
The him is no other
than Jesus, my King,
and I am a branch
that shoots from his tree.
Alone I am not,
because I always have him.
Jesus is the only one
who can blot out
generational sin.

I love you Jesus!
Thank you Father God!
Holy Spirit, you have opened my eyes to your everlasting love!