XXVII. My Brother Sees Horizons

For The Kid, 12-09

My brother sees horizons of wars in which he ne’er served
Of sunsets he ne’er awoke to, to battles ne’er nerved
My brother, sees he spirits, of men now dead and gone
Regardless of their intent, or which side they were on
My brother has an old soul, of a battle weathered skald
Like a correspondent for the ones to whom our Father called
My brother rides with Valkyries, calling spirits home
Yet in his hand, his pen is his lance, and he goes it all alone
My brother is a messenger from the present to the past
From the first gasp of the soldier unto his very last
He stays there by their bedside, a silent vigil held
And he will not let their hand go, ‘til they depart from hell

My brother sees horizons you and I will never see,
And he watches over lost sons, to give them final peace


For the horizons my brother sees: Songs of Hope and Hell