For a Brother
In shadows few would dare to breach he makes a second home,
a villa of veracity upon a catacomb,
with ghosts in every lonely hall and angels in the dome.
He dusts the stair with tender care and draws the curtains back
to let the light sit for a spell, then sends it charging back
before it has a chance to see the scars upon his back.
Oh that he’d see, ‘twixt him and me, no self-defense will stand;
a crack is all required to see within that weary land.
Oh give me strength to give my heart as I stretch out my hand.
Who knew keeping up with a poem a day would be so tough? (Not that having actual adult responsibilities has anything to do with that or anything…) Time to play catch up! Day 2 down, four more poems to go.