Brotherly Feeling

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

Unwise to say a man was happy till

His death allows the reckoning.  The plus

And minus beads on abacus can’t fill

The ledger.  Living people, those of us

Who knew him, have the task, but in the main

We let the greatest silence fill his grave.

The wake with whiskey hardly leaves a stain.

Numb breakfast porridge starts to fill the cave

Of days without him.  We get on with life.

The first to reach her summary might be

The soon remarried, happy, new man’s wife.

New?  Maybe he was always there—now free.

  Perhaps he was his brother.  He’ll be glad.

    His hands count nubbly beads though some are sad.

~ Phillip Whidden