You married your Father.
You have become our Mom.
Sorry, (my Brother)
the family misfortunes have
You are playing out
We all have been at one time
in our wretched family.
Picked people who were with us
that were never meant to be.
People who did not have the ability to share with us an open heart.
People who treated us as ends, a collection of useful parts.
You may hate me for saying this.
But hate the words not the messenger.
Is it hateful truth when unhappy knowledge is laid upon us?
Would you rather, have more to rue?
At times we may come to realize
in some ways have been
And we have been pecking only at
the crumbs touched by very hungry birds.
If I had a wish for you, it would be for the greatest love of all.
Not in the form of a woman,
but in the form of something very small.
in the ever-present ancient knowledge that has been
lying dormant somewhere in your brain.
You are worthwhile Brother.
I hope you understand my repeating refrain...
The love you seek is inside,
not within another.
I see it when I remember the tenacious boy
who was happy against all odds.
Nothing challenging kept you from your life back then,
you were a persistent lightning rod.
Do I see it in your face just now,
the look of hope...
passing like a small cloud
on a blue day.
The tiredness has left you now.
To live for yourself is no disgrace.
Look to yourself Brother,
and you will find your place.
Melissa A Howells Meloo Tilt-a-World
Copyright April 4 2012 all rights reserved by the author
this may prove to be an unpopular poem.
recycled language from one sibling to another...
this poem has been a long time brewing...since 2003