For my brother. Written in 1988.

( April is poetry month. Poem number five. I found a old journal from 1988. This poem was never published. Old words, old sadness. Become leftover pain, we learn to live with.)

For my brother..

Child with your eye closed to living. How can I bring hope and sweetness to a life, where hope and dreams are long forgotten on your journey of living?

Was I even a burden, for I didn’t see you encircled in lost dreams, forgotten goals. I didn’t know you were hiding and lost in the drugs and the alcohol. They were your only protection from your memory, your sadness, your disappointment.

I feel I didn’t love you enough. I wish I was a gentle soul. Giving hope, concern and care instead of only pushing you to my goals and to accomplish something.

I didn’t want to face you the last time I could see your face. For I wanted to remember you as my wild and younger brother.

But I did see you lay, peaceful, eyes looking upon the sky. I knew you have found your peace from our uncaring world.

I don’t understand how we allow our children to fall so young, their life just beginning. Seeking death over life. Dying with no more dreams except a peaceful sleep.

My brother, I can see you and Chuck in kind dreams. I hope you both found a kinder place to rest your restless souls.

I still don’t know why you took your own life? For I fall to weakness and sadness still. But I know I must stay alive to give hope to someone in need.

I will tell a story of two young men. The young man catching up with his brother in the turmoil of a hanging rope.

Maybe the drugs were the rope, alcohol their teacher and the world their judges.

I do not visit them. Only ashes are left.

Maybe one day, when life leaved my body. I will find them and I will ask them. Did the song of death overtake your Will to live?

(Death is sweet, life can be sweet. Come to me. The Death song.)

Till then I won’t understand their journal and my journey will never be the same, for I carry the burden of helping put the rope upon their necks.

For not loving enough.

Johnnie Coyote