For my brothers.

For my brothers.

Written in 1988.

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