poem for my brother    by  Chris Mansell

when he died you were
the strong one broad shouldered
anchored and gruff my brother
you bawled
out the hearse driver
for taking your father
too quick to the grave

we went in the black car
my mother   my sister
my daughter   myself
we talked on the journey
held hands   fell quiet
some of us looked
for rainbows

we followed the silent man
hurtling along in the box
this was our father   grandfather
husband mute as stone
and heavy

it took a life time
to talk
he saved it
and in six weeks precious said it all
he was lucky he said
to have the chance

my brother stayed
away couldn't see the old man
his father had become
didn't want to hear
the refuge in the words
dad held for him

dad understood the distance
he'd taught his son well
to be a man

at the funeral
we talked of roses and bicycles
my brother spoke thanks
properly and bravely
and much later
in the women's kitchen
wept

© Chris Mansell