My Brother

Poem about a man standing at his brother's funeral.

My Brother

I watched my brother stare into the sky;
words were choked, mouth was dry, hard to swallow,
clouds parted in reverence for Apollo.
I wondered what he saw up there, and why?
Our friends were gathered there amongst the stones
to hear his tales again. The silence shrieked;
a banshee lanced me when he did not speak,
for though he was right there I felt alone.

"Brother, you're so cold to me these days,
can't we live the way we did back then?"
I beseeched, implored, begged for him but when
ignored I hung my head, avoid his gaze.
The setting sun spilled gold across his face;
I reached my arm, too late for his embrace.