"Dear Daughter" by Christopher Fox Graham

 

Dear daughter,

for the last three and a half years 

you, your mother and I have been 

a trifecta of awesome

you the cataclysm

your mother the emergency response

and me the PR department

I cannot predict you

nor aid in the recovery

like your mother

I merely tell strangers, “it could be worse

“be thankful this is as bad as it was 

“this is the damage you can expect to see

“now, go and tell your relatives you survived

“warn them of what's on the horizon”

for three and a half years 

you have been the center of our world

now, two planets will emerge from the darkness

twin stars rising above the horizon 

a pair of orbs to orbit alongside you

I am sorry you are no longer solo

but I am not sorry you are no longer solo

your mother is doing all the labor

I only assisted

I am the RBI

Mission Control

riding shotgun on this out of control stagecoach 

off the cliff of having twins

You have not gained competitors

nor enemies 

but co-conspirators

allies in your little girl revolution

fellow doombringers

heart pirates

hunters on the savanna

warships in a squadron

raining down hellfire at range

Athena wasn't alone either

after she sprang fully arm'd and armor'd

from the mind of Zeus

Hera bore her siblings, too

you will be a trifecta, granddaughters of Chaos

We have gone from trio to quintet 

we do not count by even numbers in this house

me alone, then your mother and you

then the twins

We are a Fibonacci family

we do not yet know who or what they will be

but if, like you

they are equal weights of metric-level amazing

I can only imagine you'll love them as much as we do

they will not be strangers

but as more you, than I am

after all, they're only half me,

half your mother

but you and they share more DNA

and in the end the three of you are more the same

than I and your mother are

keep this in mind

they are not opponents to counter

but allies to co-opt

so do not be jealous

we are having them 

because you are too awesome to be alone

they exist because you were a victory

that needed replication

they are your echoes

evidence of your success

you are first and always will be

I love you singularly for all the days of your life

instead, imagine them in their differences as 

sidekicks

wingmen

your accomplices

Jedi padawans or Sith apprentices

the double-barreled Boomstick

to your Ash Williams

Companions to your Doctor Who,

yes, my blue pickup is the TARDIS

but when in time

your mother and I spent our last

and we are no more

when we are ash and worm's meat

you and they will be what remains

not echoes

nor sequels

nor reimaginings

nor remakes

but the copyedited versions of our rough drafts

new testaments to the old religions

you are the sins forgiven

the word made flesh

the dreams come true

the better versions

of what we wish we were