Because I know you're here.
Because I miss you so.
***
Three years
Three years delivers itself
to the world, unfettered
with little notice outside my own heart.
Three years has calm eyes,
no longer swollen, red rimmed
and wide with disbelief.
Three years doesn't announce its presence
with a sobbing voice on the phone.
It doesn't throw itself to the floor. It doesn't wail
or plead with God.
Three years comes like a sigh,
in through the back door,
plunks itself in my lap,
crawls into my throat
balls up
and dares me not to react.
12-30 -01
***
Quietus
It felt right
laughing, arguing
and teasing.
It was easy and normal
in this house
with your booming voice
and huge presence
sprawled across couch
and time.
it was right
and good
and real
until hateful alarm
dared
wake the truth.
3/4/00
***
Glen's song
...thoughts drift in careless measure
to meadows, rivers and plans
of futures left unfinished
lifeless, 'neath death's calloused hand
memories spin in maddening circles
to a little boy who became a man
of castles built on air and clouds
and dreams built on sand
of playful romps, and tousled fits
of basketball games and debates
pride in this man who was my brother
regret in words that come too late....
***
Finality
I can not believe so great a presence
can fade with such finality,
like so many sunsets over Huron
or the majestic eagle rounding the bend
of the great Ausable.
12-30-01
***
Final Resting Place
(Mikado Cemetery)
You will lay next to your father
and he, by his namesake
beneath knotty pine
and sorrowful tear,
Familiar comfort is found in the sandy terra firma
of this Michigan coastline town.
where lush grass can not be coaxed,
yielded in its stead,
tufts of crab grass and wild thistle.
Dry jack needles blanket stones
and worn cement animals stand guard over lost children.
Now,
you too, shall rest in this place
where as children we prayed for our father
and as a woman,
I pray for you
***
God answers prayers
Sometimes the answer is no.
Fr. Garcia
***
Most Likely
I believe it's the way you crunched your k
along with a mouthful of candy corn
inside a half bitten smile
Or the way you mulled over solutions
and chewed on problems,
gnawed on possibilities until ideas were exhausted.
Perhaps it was the annoying way you were right
no matter how wrong,
and the intensity which seared from
coal eyes when challenged
It could be the way fatherhood birthed your patience
and sewed meaning to your side.
I believe it was probably the way you
erased distractions
while your son was in the room,
the way you lingered on his smile,
content in his miracle.
You scooped each syllable he uttered
into your pocket
for later moments
when he wouldn't awaken at your house.
But most likely, I miss you
because you were there the day I arrived on earth,
and every day after.
You were my touchstone
You helped make sense of nonsense, without judgment
a protector who set about righting wrongs
and battling adversities.
We were meant to grow old sharing ideas
and arguing about Bob Seger
I was meant to be annoyed, for the rest of my life, at your quick temper
and voracious appetite.
And I was meant to feel forever, the love enveloped in your bear hugs
and the comfort of your voice, a phone call away.
***
The Eagle
I saw the eagle today.
He showed himself
in the Kmart parking lot.
I thought of the great Lakota Chief
who called you the eagle,
I thought of your great spirit heart
rising from the ashes of a broken marriage
and rearranged dreams.
I thought of you and your alabaster Eagle
and I laughed when I realized
the eagle showed himself
in a Kmart parking lot.
I may be reaching,
but at this point,
I'll take whatever I can get.
12-30-01
***
***
I turned 37 last week,
your age when you passed.
Do you suppose when I'm 60
you'll still be my big brother?
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