Evil is who evil does,
Mother said, castigating
The living and dead;
Scanning through life
Or book; giving the look
She gave you, if you didn’t
Do what she wanted you to,
Counting out sins like
A miser counting coins
From a secret purse; making
Judgements in black and white,
Taking no heed of the grey
Areas of this or that; seeing
Only the evil she’d seen,
Snarling out like vicious cat.
Jealous is who jealous acts,
Father stated in his bass voice;
His dark eyes scanning;
Not confusing green envy
With the jealousy perceived,
Not to be deceived; not to be
Angered; just observed
In human encounters
Day by day; acknowledging
The weaknesses, the fear
Of losing what one has,
The root of all jealousy
He believed, seeing this
Trait, understanding
The cause; gazing
At Mother; staring at you;
Wondering where your bruises
Came, black and dark blue.
Loving is who loving gives,
Sister whispered, sheltering
Under the covers of the shared
Bed; hugging each other
Against the coldness of Mother;
Listening to the rows below stairs,
The raised voices; the breakage
Of crockery; the slamming
Of doors; the whispers getting
Softer; the hugging more
Closer; the darkness enclosing
And Sister saying, Lily stay still,
Be silent, stop breathing,
Waiting for morning to come
With songbirds and sunlight
And the cold dark night leaving.
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