Merry Christmas. Please call the people you love.


(Two brothers who committed suicide before their twenties birthdays. One in 1988 and one in 1989.}

“A sad one. If you feel death is more important then life. Please call me. Maybe I can help."

 Too late for forgiveness….

My second brother was put into the cold earth. Death by their own hands. Left many to swim in bad decisions and not enough kind words.

The things I believed in. Became useless and not fruitful anymore. Words said without thoughts or kindness. Left my soul in blackness. I wished too late to take back words that degrade a life of a brother.

I learn the important things we must believe are  simple and plain. I learn we must rise and fall. Cry and laugh. Beg and demand.

I chisel my brothers names into a old Oak tree. I asked the Spirit of life and death to forgive me for being a bastard instead of a friend. Silence and loneliness left me be to the solitude of pen and paper.

I learn we are all mortals. Too blind to see beyond our own glory. Till names of the dead are carved in your chest, your mind.

Today I remember two strong and wild boys who showed no fear. The hidden demons no-one saw.
Took them to a rope and no goodbye.

Their death made me more gentle in action and in words. The dream of wealth became less needed.

Now I offer a open door to friends and family. I will listen to someone who is struggling and try to help.
I don’t believe you can be forgiven. Lonely graves of two scared boys are permanent scars on a mind and heart.


No-one cared or saw that they saw death more sweet then life.

I wished I’d listen to a wise grandfather. Nothing good to say. Say nothing. Negative words and actions can caused permanent damage. My door is always open for you.

Better to be a friend then be standing by a casket saying a final goodbye.

                               Coyote

Category : poetry
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