My Parent’s Offspring

My parent’s offspring: one soul in two bodies,
One slightly more feminist, one slightly more environmentalist.
We meet somewhere between idealism and realism:
We march on demos; we fight for things to change,
We act, feel, speak like the world is our stage.

My sibling and I, we wear a crucifix around the neck,
We go to PRIDE on Saturday,
We say our prayers on Sunday.
We both stand up against the far-right,
We both share the same values,
There’s only few instances when we fight.

My skin and blister is similar to her sister.
We’re slightly different, both persistent,
both extremely straightforward, assertive women.
I’m the rage-filled, disciplined eldest daughter,
She's the strong-willed, carefree younger child.
We both rebelled against our mother.
We can do anything on our own, but we’re stronger combined.

My little sister is my better, lovelier half.
She plays the cross flute like a champ,
Meanwhile, I write poems to lift her spirit, to make her laugh.
My variant image adores quite scenery,
I, on the other hand, only thrive in urban jungle greenery.
She dresses in blue and green; I show up in black and red,
I love learning languages, but boy does she despise that.

My younger self can do anything on her own,
She doesn’t ask for help, she doesn’t ask for permission,
Neither does she follow outdated tradition.
She wears an old sweatsuit when she goes on a date,
She’s also a teenager with a billion things on her plate.

We shared a womb,
We shared food, clothing, billions of phone calls, secrets, gifts.
How could I ever feel alone,
When I have a sister to call my home?

© Elena Natroshvili

IG: 16minutepoetry