If my brother was alive, today David would celebrate his 53rd Birthday.
It doesn’t seem like 7 years since he died.
Pictures of the three of us
Pictures of the two of us
Pictures of you
The pictures of you linger
The pictures of you smiling
The pictures of you
Pictures of the three of us are all that remains
Pictures of the two of us are all that remains
Pictures of you are all that remains
on your birthday
To find you standing
beside me, alive and well
speaking once again.
Happy Birthday, Brother!
David died in 2015 (not long after his 46th birthday), yet I still think about how my brother used to say my name. I miss him. He would be 53 today.
Walking to forget
the way skin felt like the sun.
Mornings without her.
Come to me,
leave everything you love alone.
Be with me;
give up your humanity for me.
Live with me;
love me more than you love them.
with one bite, I will free you from
humanity’s snare and guide you
into the shadows and the dark.
A dark bond binds two
standing in the cold forest.
Death covers the ground.
Etched wooden chairs,
a French polished dining table,
ambient candle lights.
Beyond the dining room
your mind plays on your fears,
the shadows shift, move.
Petrified of the shadows,
a child too young to understand,
darkness frightened you.
Enlightened by knowledge,
you face the shadows fearlessly,
never taking a wrong step.
A touch along your neck,
terror has a name you remember,
you run out into the night.
A windless cold night,
movement within the front trees,
illogical ways of nature.
Those etched chairs,
your father died on one of those,
too long ago, father.
A whisper on the wind,
something I heard you say long ago,
“my darling daughter”.
I wanted revenge,
thoughts of death and destruction.
Wading in the sea glass and the sandstone,
look for the place where you used to stand,
thinking back to every time we came here.
An image of you returns.
I cannot remove that image from my mind;
you continue haunting
my life, my mind, and this place of our own.
Wading with only beautiful memories of you,
hearing the bombs fall,
my heart and my mind yearn to see you again.
You were a whirlwind
of hair, scent and sorrow;
I cannot forget you.
You strip the house of everything that reminds you of your love.
No fixtures and fittings remain, the paint’s stripped away, and what was once a home is now a shell of a house.
Instead of choosing to hold your dead soulmate’s memory close, you destroy everything, including yourself.