One More Last Call
For my Brother on his bipolar journey
With fifty-nine tears, I stare at the phone, wanting to
understand. I had your voice in my hand. Intense pain now
washes through our decade’s bones. I must be able to rinse it,
cleanse it and restart with a stable heart. Always layers of hurt
from you. Now there is another, my lost Brother.
We may never meet again, not as siblings or as friends,
yet, you choose to bring our last call to a painful end!
Distance and age whisper chilly to me, of a certain
possibility; this call could be the last call of all. I wonder,
do you feel that, too? Does this sad truth also shadow you?
In life’s darkness, two stars shine on; one is our Dad, the
other, our Mom. Dad could not take your constant rift of
frightening dread. He couldn't bare your street life and
mentally buried you in his head. Mom could never sever the
bond, so her enabling still goes on.Neither parent was right
or wrong. Both were desperate to survive your heartbreaking
song.
I never knew what to do, but I sought and fought to do it right.
I would help, I would insist, but true help, you would resist.
I’ve abandoned my hopeful persistence by accepting that
I’ll never have brother-relief, not in this existence.
I’ve lived years of concern waiting for some informative word.
Nothing was heard to calm my concern, just bad news as
frequently occurs.
I’ve had a lifetime of watching you fill your own spaces by
selfishly passing thru daylight. Rather than climbing up to
achieve a healthy need, you always sat aground and caused
yourself to bleed. Whether you’re in jail or living drugged on
the streets, loving you has never known relief. I gave you my
all, walked all your dark halls. Can’t we now have peace?
Please, on some near tomorrow, borrow another phone.
Call me and let us be the best of us, let us share love
to enhance what is left of us. One more, last call for love to
be shown when next your voice is in my phone.
Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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