Big Brothers

Family is so important to us all, perhaps even more so when they are not there.

 

 

We rarely saw each other growing up --

Different fathers, you see,

  though my mother had divorced them both.

Not having much,

  mom couldn't raise us all.

I stayed with her.

They stayed at our grandparents.

  Mama Mae, Papa Jim

  She, a big, smiley flour covered lady

    who always smelled of lilacs

  He, a large, rawboned man in cowboy boots

    who smelled of cherry tobacco from his pipe

I remember once -- a miracle! -- we all were there

   for Christmas.

 

Mom and I and that other man

   who smelled of beer and chewing tobacco

 lived in Texas and Indiana and Illinois and Indiana again

 and finally back in Texas

 but in a dozen houses that never were homes.

Big Brothers lived in Texas.

 With Mama Mae and Papa Jim.

 And never moved at all.

 

I never knew which of us was the luckiest

  but I know we all thought it,

  because I got to live with mom.

    maybe it was just me.

 

I thought of them both a lot:

   After mom remarried -- again.

   After he beat her, too.

   After both of them drank too much.

   After moving again

    and again,

  again.

 

I wondered if they ever needed me --

     but no one ever needs a little brother:

Little brothers can't chase away monsters

   when the house is cold and dark

   or empty except for little brother

   because they haven't come home from the bars

   and little brother's little bed

   is suddenly

so damn big

     and cold --

 

The house is never more quiet

      or scary 

   when Big Brothers live

   six states away

   and have their choice

   of Grandma or Grandpa

    or -- oh! -- each other!

   to run to when the lightening flashes

       and thunder booms!

   to cuddle with

   and finally fall asleep

   in someone's warm, loving arms.

            Well,

 

We're all older now

 with lives and families of our own

 with children who can climb in our warm beds

   and snuggle when the lightening strikes

       the thunder booms.

 

We rarely see each other now

    just like way back then

But we talk once in a while

We send instant messages --

We always close with

    "I Love You, Brother."

Always.

But sometimes,

 mostly late at night,

 when wife and child are fast asleep

 the house is dark

 the lightening flashes

        the thunder booms --

Sometimes I wonder ...

  if Big Brothers ever wish

  for little brothers

    ... to snuggle in their arms.

 

 

Reviews

[Broken.buddy]

after reading all of your works, this is the one that made me re-read multiple times, mainly because this feels like home, stories expressed in short, shocking, revelations, I am not any exper at writing poetry and like you have mentioned in your review of one of mine, I dont know what was timbre as a word and had to google it. But I see that here, in this. I liked the way some of the stanzas are structured with repeated words, some with italics, each has their own impact. I like things which tell stories. Thank you for sharing this on this site, this is going into my favs library. I am not even as good as you in writing reviews, so in case if this feels any different, please be assured this is a praise.

[FlatDaddy]

Oh, I know it for sure. but ... you've read ALL of my works? I don't think anyone's been crazy enough to do that! I am so embarrassed. Some of those pieces are just ... "exercises." My ego trying on new clothes. I must be more careful now. You may discover things about me no one knows, not even me. Scary. But oh, please keep doing it! :)

[Broken.buddy]

indeed I did, I spent the last 2 days on and off between work and other things, including your story on your bio

[FlatDaddy]

By the way, sometimes when we're alone, when no one else can hear, you must tell me why you took the nom de plume of "Broken. buddy." It must be delicious.

[FlatDaddy]

I had to do a quick read of my bio, then look at the list of my works -- and I am so embarrassed. WHY would you do that? I love Poe, too, but I don't think I've read ALL of him. Spooky! But of course I'm in love with you now. Is that your plan, to enrapture me then steal me away somewhere and hide me in a cupboard filled with your castoff poems? Okay, let's go!

[Broken.buddy]

LOL, on a lighter note : Be careful what you wish for!

[FlatDaddy]

Oh, my head is full of wild ideas that constantly call to me. I meant only a momentary fling, perhaps romping through some book of forgotten lore together. But, alas, my words must surely be "flavored with inadequacy."

[Broken.buddy]

I meant the poems that I have stashed away sometimes come off rather rude and dark and not meant for reading ever again.

[FlatDaddy]

If you know my work you surely know my LIFE is rude and dark. Sometimes that is needed in literature. When that's the way things are, or should be, that's the way you write them, perhaps dressing them in finery or clown suits to make them more palatable -- or strip them bare to reveal the ugliness of your subject if it is usually hidden. Take them out and see.

[Samuel Dickens]

I like this. There's much I can relate to, for it resembles my own life in certain ways. I never really knew my older half brother until late in life. You and I knew only split up, fractured and dysfunctional family life, lit only on occasion with a mama Mae and papa Jim.

[bookworm]

Are tears streaming down my cheeks considered a "good review"?

You sure know how to engage your audience, FD. "This" is the story I want to hear more about, the book I want to read. No pressure. Just a hint the size of Texas....