Body Meet Avalanche
I was a prophet, wrapped in my mothers arms
brightest eyes that saw a darkened world
my brother was the halo figure, a golden arm for slingshots
a temper to smash his own fist against a brick wall
we wept in time with the funeral march
as our mother was buried in front of our eyes
misgivings and mass at midnight
praying to an empty alter
to save our grandfather, to spare him one more night
lying in bed a week later
I awoke to his voice telling me our prayers had done no good
It's easier to blame the empty bottles for my brothers death
easier to blame the teen years than the
push and pull of growing up an orphan
and on nights like this, more than a decade later
I can still recall that conversation when he told me
when he closed his eyes and spoke those words, barely above a whisper
that he wouldn't be around much longer
I was thirteen and still bright eyed
he was twenty three and weathered
I was a prophet, but even a blind man could see
the pain that was ingrained in his faintest smiles
the avalanche of emotions still hit and bury me deep
some nights i pray to let me reach safety
others I take solace in knowing that
the avalanche is holding me tight as I sleep
Copyright © K.M North | Year Posted 2015
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