06.24.22 To my brother

my first little candle in the dark,
my compass, my playmate, my partner in fun
in mischief (and the occasional petty crime)—
creative, cunning, courageous, my protector
my one in need of protection,
my great friend, my heart-breaking,
angry, hurting, troubled friend,
I wish you’d known you more
the way I knew you
I wish other people could have known you
the way I knew you.
I wish you’d never believed a cruel
or unkind word anyone ever said to you,
including me.
I wish you could have seen yourself more clearly,
more often, in a loving light.
I wish you’d known how deserving you were
of love and help, how capable you could be
of releasing all that grief.
I know you’re here now
better than ever
back in the arms of source, pure positive energy,
released, ready to play,
free and clear and radiant;
but forgive me if I hold on
a little while longer
brooding
in what I knew of you.
And when I let go of what I knew
maybe I’ll be willing to know you
and myself
a little more
and see a little more
in the way you must now see and know us all.
I’ll be ready to play.

… But I’m mad, just now, because I can’t write you better spontaneous poetry. But, not at all sorry that I never mastered elegy. Just grasping after words, any words, just now.
And I’m laughing too, between the rest of it, because you understand, now, how silly and stupid that really is:
how silly and stupid it’s always been.
Love you, Chris. My first brother, my first best friend.
I wish I could have been with you, at the end.
And in time, I know, all hurting things mend.
(you liked rap. I tried).