I am building a brace for the front porch of my brother who is on the other side of that door listening with headphones to a recording of Chinese poetry (in Mandarin, which he understands) while he is dying, slowly, brain cell by brilliant brain cell in that rocking chair whose joints are creaking, coming undone.
He no longer remembers his phone number or how to count change at the grocery store. He is in denial of any problem as he grows younger, ever younger shedding years like snakeskins while the crack in the porch grows wider, ever wider so out here in the rain I set four-by-fours upright as posts, then I **** four-by-eights as beams lifting on my shoulder held by my hands pushing with my legs transferred through my spine anchored by my feet as the useless joists of the deck drop termite **** onto my eyebrows like taunts of children: nya nya you can’t fix this. But I can brace it for a while.
Long enough, at least for my brother to forget ten languages. I will repair that rocking chair. I will buy diapers, rubber sheets, install grab bars in the shower. I won’t let his porch collapse out here in the rain. I will cradle these boards like a baby in my arms.
Sometimes carpentry is a form of meditation. This poem won first place in the Spirit First 2016 Meditation Poetry Contest. Spirit First is a wonderful society that promotes meditation and mindfulness. www.SpiritFirst.org