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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Birth begins the tragedy in us. Life's First sound is a blank scream Against sorrow's hidden portends of strifes All we know are mirages and dream. Mother took the news staring at the sky She must have cried inside For I have no evidence else. There's no why For it ... how my rage defied Her callous front ... he was her first boy The only hero she spoke well Of, his name was the formula for joy In our house: anecdotes tell Of his escapades ... youth defying fate He had a cat's tenacity for life And from evil wills found a golden gate Of scholarship and exotic wife. I remember when the years pulled him back All he came with was a bag Of books, and a couple suits in novel sack His eyes time warped, a lag Of missing years and loneliness enfolding him But he was handsome still And my soul cartwheeled at joy's fresh brim Those moments that he filled When eyes first contact spelled pride to claim This aristocrat like a medal I could wear. So young he was, her true flame The son of love's sweet recital! And many days sitting in his shadow, I heard Him dream big things like stars Far away, warm things like a fluttering bird Things made bright to cover scars In the sore of memory. His mind was his cliff A risky place in the high winds And closer to the edge for the Grail he'd drift O how the giddy world spins! He died in Kingston: William came and went And my mother looked at the sky But until she died, about his memory was silent And I forever wonder why. I loved him, you know, he was the first best thing A poor child had to claim or show The world ... with him I was no more common. A king He made me in his gold of glow Something that I looked forward to meet in me. I, Like mother, been silence since But sometimes my heart just heave and would cry For time this love cannot rinse And I that moment cannot comprehend, that death Gave no notice to his lauded day And like common dust on a wild wind's balmy breath My brother was swiftly swept away.
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