Wednesday, September 16, 2015
My Own Brother
~ my own brother ~
seeing sun bow to the moon
we now know the wind ––
the archival natures of some lover's past ––
i knew the friend in childhood
the horses and black apples
and short days after school when i refused
learning for the changing nature of things ––
of leather and latico and sweet feed.
i too enjoyed the taste of grain not knowing there was a friend born north
(from my mother's own dead ghost he was inhabited)
that would lift me up in word and in deed long before the redeeming hours
the apartments of souls learning heavy duties and pilfering to find their ways
and spiritual guides i yearned in teens to know.
when God joins the hearts of men
the spaghetti of highways leading them toward crossroads
is filtered in layers of cleaning up after ones own messes
so that he might, when in love with dear friends
take pride in accidental oopses.
it's involuntary in that great kitchen moment
when coffee or wine or stimulant or depressant
owes shame no new meaning but silence.
and when eyes meet and can,
the birthing right of some great child will not refuse his younger brother.
and this is the way villages are formed ––
great kings know this and in pledge they give gifts.
a painter loves his friend so much that absent
he yearns with each stroke to see and insure
that on revelation day, his beloved has not been left out.
his heart is simply this:
"i want so much for you to see what i am seeing."
jP autumnal day 2o15 - for James