A compulsion to write
..or... speak, even converse..
all these strands wanting to connect -
the little neurons afraid to go it alone?
pfft.
my heart is aching
because my brother's heart failed him,
and the futility is intense,
trying to connect to Kansas
from deep in the heart of Texas
while sinking...
i thought i heard voices,
as i tried to sleep on Monday -
calling me to come to the other side,
to forsake this vile and bitter life.
Thinking of the Tibetan "Book of the Dead",
My mind casts up a story
How Death's first visitors
Will keep us here,
Locked in cycles of reincarnated suffering...
I could be silent, or
i could whisper within my family -
yet my mind is in turmoil,
screaming that "such solace is not enough...!"
crying in my bed,
and praying novenas each day -
all in the hope that my good brother,
for a few more years, is here to stay...
and, hopefully, both of us will find good comforts, soon -
for it's hard to torment each other,
or roast each other's follies over turkey dinners
if there is no turkey to be had,
or bissful dreams to enjoy
Perhaps its an ominous warning
That the stresses we create
Build up hearts and blood irate -
And, when least we expect it,
Something gives, something bursts
Oh, to chase those voices in my head,
To give up this coil,
and sleep deep in fertile soil.