TO A LOST BROTHER: ON THIS DAY, SORROW IS OUR OWN YARD

Nothing grows here, in this sorrow yard

The stunted thorn-limbed trees

Seem to droop, tired and limp

And even the dry bushes, wilt

And sag

The aloe your niece and nephews planted here

for you last year

is parched and dry like paper

The dust flies everywhere

On this day, had you but lived

Three score of years you would have seen

And since the day when you were grabbed

We've all aged much more than should have been

Your mom and dad

Still grow their plants and flowers

In their always-green jardin

Like they grew us

To be sturdy, to flower, and to seed

But alas, my brother, they cut you down

And their dream was not to be

Your pictures still adorn their walls

As they hang upon our hearts

We sometimes think of how things could have been
To see you with a baby, a nephew-grandchild
perched upon your knee
We wish, we yearn, of things that should have been

Nothing has grown but for our memory of you

Which seems to bloom as time goes on

It has branched out from each of us

And like a creeping vine

Entwined in all our thoughts

The bright green leaves and petals

                                                                              of you

bloom here inside and

Sometimes you walk into our dreams

And say hello, and pass on by

Brother of mine

Our thoughts and dreams have watered

You

So that each passing day you seem to live the more

No, nothing grows here upon our sorrow field

But for your memory

In full bloom in our hearts