Shelter Another

He gave the golden chain    
and she, the pendant,    
so I pieced them together.  
   
Togetherness,    
a word they often found unfamiliar,  
as if they were two magnets  
facing the same pole,  
pushing each other apart,  
refusing to stand near.  
   
So I kept the necklace,  
clasped and settled against my heart,  
closer than they’d ever been.  
   
The crib I first woke up in  
was far from their hold,  
and neither tried to reach for it.  
   
The ground grazed my knees,  
as I tried to crawl to their distant bodies,  
until I stopped,  
and learned to walk barefoot instead,  
back to my crib,  
where I shattered its already-rotten wood,    
and turned it into metal.  
   
Yet still,  
nothing ever truly leaves.  
I lived with a thousand and one  
splinters coalescing throughout my cells,  
carrying fragments that    
ran through my veins.  
   
Now,    
all I have of them,  
are cinders made from    
their flame and smoke,    
meant for me    
to rebuild and shelter another,    
though I was never taught how.