My precious baby brother,
On this earth, you are the person I treasure the most.
Would you believe me if I said,
I am scared of blood but willing to die in a bloodbath,
just to protect you?
I wish I could say that for me,
you were always that skinny kid,
a weakling I used to gleefully torment daily.
But we all know in this haven,
I am acting like the last-born,
as you’ve grown much more mature than I am,
and now my solid rock you’ve become.

My dear older brothers,
I wish you two would always keep your bond strong,
just like when you thought there were only you two alone together
when you actually have us, always.
Please remember in our proud culture,
where men are the masters,
you’ll one day be the shepherds of this beehive—
though I wish the day would never come.
But if it indeed comes, you need to support each other ’cause
one of you is gifted with hard work and vision,
the other with a sense of responsibility and mission.
You two would make a great team; please just agree with me.

My lovely sister, my little mother.
There were reasons why, when I was little,
I cried your name every time I was hurt or scared or sick.
And now, even though we have become adults,
those reasons stay.
You are too persistent in pushing me to adhere to societal norms.
It irks me. And we bicker.
You still pamper me way too much, though I’ve grown taller than you.
I love it. And cling to you.
Oh, my gorgeous sister, way above me in everything,
Would you believe me if I said I sometimes weep like a baby at night
for I feel a knot in my stomach, worried so much about you?
Sis, please remember, your happiness comes first.

My father and mother,
You two deserve a poem each.
Oh, but I am penning one for you, Papa.
And your presence is everywhere in every verse I made, Mama.
Papa and Mama, I am sorry for acting so spoiled as a kid,
like wildfire as a teenager,
and becoming a lone wolf as an adult.
But your high bars are out of my reach,
they drive me to the edge.
I know, no parent is perfect,
and we learned from their mistakes,
but even with all your imperfections, you still are perfect for me.

And dear me, the black sheep of the family,
who works like your mother,
and thinks like your father,
who is still confused about what role you are taking in the family
besides creating problems,
who would disappear for weeks or months without words till your sister drags you back,
and shy away from familial matters because
you think you are a fish out of water.
You know full well when this family of yours surrounds you,
you see your reflections in each of them.
Though they are in fragments, they make you floated and elated.
As you once again notice, you feel safe at home.