My brothers and myself.. Bob on the left, and Craig on the right.. one of my favorite photos of the three of us..
Type 1
"A trail of crumbs
in the garage
and on the bathroom sink.."
not from me but you.
"Where would I get the money
for "Suzy Qs"
or Hostess Pies?"
I ask but am told..
you are full of lies.
No one knows, but you,
and why should I blame
a big brother
sneaking treats..
regardless that
these feats mean death;
I used to envy you..
by the time the sickness comes
the evidence is long gone.
As for me, my lungs collapse,
the passages shrink
and like a fish out of water
I gasp, I grasp, and choke.
Asthma is no joke.
Kids like sweets;
and always found out.
today's prompt something about family.. this one about my brother Bob who passed March 2011..
ambivalence
looking forward, but
feeling sad.
wanting; not to lose..
NaPoWriMo: 30 days, 30 poems. Fortunately we're easing into it: above was my attempt at a lune, (today's prompt)
les mots (the words)
I could be trapped in a box
with you
the time spread
ahead of us
exploring
each other's tongue.
I would be brave
and say the things
trapped in my mouth
and melting like candy.
les belles paroles
trapped in my heart
aching to escape..
We read in places,
hearing stories heard before..
In this, a white space..
We know the story,
knowing it well
(without the prequels)
But what if..if you saw it all,
could you be content
to return now and to forget?
Could you go on
without knowing
any.. a thing..
about the People
that came before?
Is the story still whole?
(or only when a sum of its parts)
Are those broken pieces
still worth putting together?
What if that
broken mosaic
creates
a web of confusion and
frustration
even when complete..
where lies
pieces of unknowable facts?
and what if the past is full
of ugliness
and nothing good?
Nothing good.
Two-faced: the white space kills
the songs and stories
drowned out, die.
questions unanswered.
sigh
and moan,
"Why would we want to know,
other than
to understand?"
Do we need to understand,
if the understanding
is nothing
but pain
and frustration?
and here we wait,
in this questioning place.
Do we need to know?
Am I any less broken if I know?
II
We are never alone,
but alone just the same.
speak kindly to those
whose path you never know.
alone they may tread
with shadows at their back.
the kindest word,
is the word never said..
a hand never held,
or a dream never found,
to be alone, but not
is to live in a hell.
the smallest kindness
brings angels to ground.
i am never alone,
you are with me
always
in the back of my mind,
swimming with golden fins,
in a pacing pool
of thoughts and memory.
if only not being alone
meant
not being lonely;
for your company and
conversation.
for touch-starved
wishes taste of desperation
on the tongue,
wanting for you
would be wrong
but right in my mind,
in the heart
of all things.
I am never alone.
(does my loyalty matter?)
when i stay,
for nothing is said,
but falling
one-sided into an abyss.
this
never-ending torture,
staying in one place.
taking up space.
nothing i do matters.
and what moving forward
would do,
would you?
any sign, any word.
(a beautiful word)
any encouragement
would bring peace to this
mind
of mine.
