Somewhens, in between
practice and performance,
lonely whispers and loud fears,
highlights and sunsets,
the in becomes the focus,
forgetting there must be somewheres
to get a between.
Though Which and Whatsit love dearly,
the how got lost
in distance and existence.
Then, when fears
were most tremblingly quiet
and whispers became words,
only Who knew:
this is what sisters do.
Because stars do not die
(only beautifully sacrifice),
neither do sisters cease–
though life or death,
distance or nearness
separate–to be.

Photo credit: Kelsey Trautman