My brother dead now twenty-five years

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There you are

Around some corner

In the other room.

In the shadows

You are sleeping.

Is it now or then?

I go to door and it’s open

Outside:  Rain.

I close the screen door.

Now you are in a different room

In this house in this past we share

Lying now on the couch.

You are always near

In another room.

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About mendedheart

POV: Looking at life from that space between youth and age, I like to think I'm getting wiser. Here's where I get my material: my son, sixteen; my husband, born 1950, who thinks theologically and works prosaically; friends from way back and from now; current jobs for a non-profit and a trademark watch service; co-workers; my Unitarian Universalist church, where I enjoy community with independent thinkers of all ages; The New York Times; and some television viewing. I've read lots of books and still occasionally read one. My love of semi-colons, plus an incongruous appreciation for the art of business, spring from an attempt, long ago, to practice corporate law. I also like to take pictures.

One response »

  1. Congrats, Anne. You broke through and placed your first post — and it is so moving and lovely. You beautifully captured that feeling – the gone, but never gone — and the constant sense of searching out, but knowing that is futile and needing to settle for never again finding, but always knowing just the same that they will never truly leave you.

    I hope you are able to post some of your amazing photography soon too.

    I did edit your piece to attribute it to you and categorize it as poetry. Hope that is okay with you.

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