This poem is about the sorrow I felt at the passing of my baby brother, John. This was one of the most devestating periods of my life. His funeral and passing was the first and most damaging emotionally that I have ever had to endure. I was only thirteen at his passing. This poem displays the feelings of loss and entrapment during that crucial moment in my life.
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What were those words that fell from your lips?
I couldn't make out that last one.
Come on man, you're pulling my leg.
Where's my brother, you've had your fun.
Why does everyone look so pale?
Like ghosts or something freaky.
I hope I don't look like that.
White, discolored and ever so ghostly.
I notice they're crying,
like they believe this guy.
I feel so weird just sitting here,
listening to this guy's outrageous lie.
Do we have to go see him?
I know they're bringing him back.
I bet he'll be really hungry.
I'll go get him a big mac.
Why does he appear so cold?
The doctors aren't doing a thing.
Well, don't you have work to do there, doc?
You're all standing around, not doing a thing.
I want my brother back right now.
His skin's so pale and white.
If only I actually realized.
He'd be gone tonight.
How could we go the Church picnic,
and allow our brother to die?
Please bring him back, oh God,
please, please, please I cry.
His body feels so numb and cold.
His breathing has ceased to be.
I think I'll hold him close for a while.
They'll never get him away from me.
Don't pull me off my brother, doc.
He's mine and I won't let go.
I want to hold him close to me,
and let him see he's cherished so.
My tears are puddling on his skin,
and yet they still are pulling me.
Why can't they give him back to me,
and we can be as we used to be?
I want him to come back to me.
Oh please Lord, let him go.
He still has purpose left on earth.
Please Lord, I need him so.
Come back to me, dear Johnny.
Grow old right by my side.
Hold me close when I start to cry.
Watch and listen to the current's tide.
You are the twinkle in my eye.
You're in my tears of joy I cry.
You make me happy when I am sad.
I don't ever want to say good-bye.
My soul smelled its final sweet scent,
and my body breathed its last breath.
As I walked out of the ER late that night,
My soul found solace within its death.
Lisa M. Hunt