You watched me, raised me, taught me how to use
my hands to make a fist and give massage.
Your home became a haven from abuse
that I endured, that you left home to dodge.
The friends, the barflies buzzing round your flat
would treat your old-soul brother as a peer.
They answered patiently the questions that
the man-child asked to understand his fear.
We were so close until the very end,
when Mom would live with me and not with you;
she wasn't sure you had the strength to tend
her, watch her wither as she chose to do.
I never thought when leaving then that I
would never hear your voice before you'd die.
Mar 6, 2011
Mar 6, 2011 at 5:41 PM UTC
You watched me, raised me, taught me how to use
my hands to make a fist and give massage.
Your home became a haven from abuse
that I endured, that you left home to dodge.
The friends, the barflies buzzing round your flat
would treat your old-soul brother as a peer.
They answered patiently the questions that
the man-child asked to understand his fear.
We were so close until the very end,
when Mom would live with me and not with you;
she wasn't sure you had the strength to tend
her, watch her wither as she chose to do.
I never thought when leaving then that I
would never hear your voice before you'd die.
My sister's 62nd birthday would have been today. Spirit bless her wherever she is.
3-6-2011 JMF
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