Sometimes

Sometimes, when I look in the mirror I see my brother’s face, I quiver with recognition. As time takes me, so it takes my eyes, I reason, a trick of the mind. Just sometimes. Sometimes, when I’m working with my hands I see the hardened hands of my sister who slaved to keep her family together. Only sometimes, then I give my head a shake. Not real, I defend. Sometimes, when I look at my feet I see the worn shoes of the homeless, the refugees in search of a place. I remember the long, hard road and compassion forms in my throat. Just sometimes. I wish I could see that way more often.