Trees standing in a row beside a house
sway slightly in a light breeze; stand back up.
Trees bend slightly in a strong rain; stand back up.
Branches broken during a thunderstorm
are sawed for firewood then forgotten.
Struck by lightning a tree falls on the house.
Those tears were not of pain. Tears my brother
cried silently; his face red and wet, his
shirt blue and gold. I stared scared and useless.
It was then I knew that what he deserved
was not violence. That Saturday at
breakfast in the same room as a straw cross.
You left a map to your place, big brother,
when you left without a backward glance.
Inspired by Pearl Jam's 'Rearview Mirror.'
Sunday, July 1, 2007
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