the hardest thing [a poem]

someone asked me once
"what was the hardest thing about helping your brother and sister detox from years of sticking needles full of oxycontin into their veins?"

many months after the fact
i ponder this question
"i don't know."
"everything."
"nothing."

the hardest thing
was definitely not
the moaning, groaning, aching, writhing
shivering, shouting
bodies of my brother and sister

it was not the twisted hateful
words, the begging
pleading shameless words

it was not the sound of
vomiting
the twitching of limbs
the bruised and lumpy
track marks on arms

it was not the syringes,
burnt spoons, the blood
spatters on walls
the empty pill capsules
filling darkened, dank rooms
reeking of indifference

it was not even the starving dogs
once loved as deeply
as members of the family

it was not the knowledge
that both of them coming out
alive
was statistically improbable
or the admission of my
father
into out-patient detox,
further upping the statistical
improbability

it was not the waiting
for HIV test results
or hearing stories
of bleached but shared
needles

it was not the holding of
keys, bank cards, check books
or the $1000 of my own money
shelled out to bridge the gap

it was not
seeing
my sister on her knees , sobbing
scraping a just-in-case percocet
from the bottom
of the bathroom sink

it was not flushing the percocet
down the toilet
amidst echoes of hateful screams

it was not the fear
or loneliness
the sadness
or anger
the shame

it was not the empty eyes
of strangers who shared
my blood

it was certainly not
missing 4th of july fireworks
because brother and sister
were physically incapable
of walking
2 blocks
to see them

it was really none of these things
rolling this question around the inside
of my brain and heart
i realize

the hardest thing was not even
the turning off of all emotions
absolutely necessary to make this
crazy endeavor
work

the hardest thing was
(and still is)
learning to turn the emotion
back on
learning to feel again
safely

it was the setting aside of my own life
fulfilling my destiny as the hollow hero child,
learning how to not develop a complex about it
it was learning to release the weight of a childhood
of responsibility and quiet attentiveness
it was (and still is)
learning how to ask for things for myself
how to stop fixing everyone else
how to laugh and play and be in the world
without carrying the weight of it
it was learning how to trust
my story