brother T

 

when he got quiet
I knew poems were going off in his head
like bombs dropped
sleepless nights in warm mud and rain
when he got quiet
I knew compositions were being written
in between sanity and solution
in between peace and war
without haste
he wrote in his mind
as he thought thoughts
and as he remembered
the days when memory lane was paved
with youth and goals and simple things
then he found himself
dripping in the warm rain
and the cold nights
away from the world
in a world where memories
last a lifetime
and memories are smashed
numbed and snuff out whenever possible
in the jungle

in another world
scrutinized by media
wounded by time
left alone in the dark
for battles won
wars lost
and time forgiving
the pain, the rain, the voice
healing from within I see him write poems
in between sanity and brilliance
in between war and peace
in between love and brother
sister and mother
I see him write poems
when he's quiet and alone