“I cannot climb this tree,” I told him, “I'm small and it's too high.”
He messed my hair and laughed, and beckoned, “Come now, let’s just try.”
Somehow I leapt higher than I had before—reaching one branch, then another,
I knew that feeling all too well, it was the boost of my older brother.
With one quick hoist of his great, rough hands, I conquered my fears at last;
Up the tree, then to the sky; brothers playing as time crawled past.
I thought these were my friends, I wondered, as they taunted my insecurity;
I wasn’t game for what they called ‘fun’, so they mocked relentlessly.
But who to call, at such an hour? And was I too soft to withstand boyish jeers?
“Will you pick me up?’ I whispered, “I don’t feel well and I can’t sleep here.”
The hour was late, he didn’t have to come. Weren’t these my friends after all?
But he heard it in my voice, he told me, “I’m on my way, and I’m glad you called.”
I tried to grow into the type of man my brothers had shown me how to be;
Becoming a husband, then father, life hurried along; their examples endured for me.
“Congratulations, Uncle,” I messaged the picture of her tiny hands and toes;
I could feel his smile bursting through; he sensed the joy every new father knows.
His children were his greatest light—peace from a mind’s increasing torment;
As adversity mounted, his love for them grew, the only barrier to a cruel descent.
“I cannot bear this news,” I trembled, “It’s far too heavy. I know I’ll break;”
My throat was tight, my broken heart bare—truly this I could not take.
Such laughter, joy, and light he brought us; now a gaping hole was born;
Once tears of laughter, tears now tragic—stained our cheeks as we mourned.
To my knees I fell as I wept through prayer, nearly swallowed in my grief,
“I can’t understand and I miss him so. Please Lord, bring me some relief.”
Time did its best to mend my wounds, though pain persisted still.
A piece at time, a restoring light entered, and my heart began to fill.
In the mountains I found refuge amidst creations quiet and grand.
One day as I uttered my prayer once more, I sensed a calming hand,
“Be still and listen, My little one, for I understand you miss him yet;
Heed My words, put fear away, the world would have you forget:
That a Shepherd knows not only His sheep, but their every grief and care;
Wandering, wounded, or broken yet, there is none beyond My repair.
Having descended below, I know your pain, and the suffering of your brother;
And if you’ll both allow me to, I’ll mend one heart, then another.
This season is short, I see further still; turn now away from such sorrow.
Weeping may endure for this long night, but joy cometh on the morrow.”
hb mercy
(photo of me on my brother's shoulders, Christmas eve '95)
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