L'oeil jeté

1st May 2012

Post

Where have my brothers gone?

How about those who hail from the hustling, busting, bubbling, urban land. My brothers who were born of the same mother’s womb, holding hands, and screaming, for love, blood bathed in their eyes. They grew as one, as friends, learning of the steely, human sweat, sweet civilizations. Neither sleeping nor waking they walked over the cracked cement, sealing it with their trials by day and their trials by night. But where have my brothers gone? The sun has fallen, and the moon has fallen, and so they have too. Going like they came, blood bathed in their eyes, holding hands and screaming, but not of love. No, the cold, metal doldrums and lack of rest have suffocated their newborn cries and caused them to be ripped from the sweat they poured. And so the cement has cracked.

Where has my brother gone? But where has he who is next in line to my twin brothers gone? He was neither born or died of blood, but rather comfort. The stone sidewalks and steely streets were not his home, but rather a friendly heart, a strong sense of community with many leisures. I do not blame him for bearing mother’s breast, but he has dwelled in comfort for too long. He has never grown into man, and melted away with the warmth of love.

But where has my brother gone? You who always moved and roamed with bold freedom, you my most variant of brothers. You had a rugged breath and lived in mother’s home. In the grass she grew, in the rivers she wept, in the mountains she has hewn and split. You had more strength than I, and have the fortune to lie down in pastures, but you never stayed. The lands are wide and they call your name. And so I’ll cath your tracks from time to time, but never your face, brother. You have left. You are safe, but have forgotten your brothers.

Especially the frailest. Where has he gone, my brother? Where is he; he whose life was so unfortunately cut into thirds and scattered to the most foreign of lands. I called your name, my purest and most lovely of all brothers.
But I had no help, and your life was scattered too far. I see your skin stretch around your bones all tight. No food in your belly or water on your tongue. I love you my brother, but the world has forgotten you. I am so sorry. I will call
out your name as our other brothers let you fade.

And so all my brothers have gone. My heart tells me to cry, but my head tells me to recall their stories. My brothers have gone, but I will look straight into their sleeping eyes, and kiss their forheads. For I have always made their dreams a sight and their thoughts of love.

The world has left their senses otherwise.

Recall what Mama sang.