Tuesday, March 9th 2010

You are too heavy, brother.

I was left alone, stunned, unable to move.

"Siblings carry each other, and it's okay," Julie told me. Does she recognize that turn of phrase?

Yes, you carried me, you spoke for me, like Aaron for Moses. You walked ahead, clearing the path, warning me of potholes and quicksand and landmines. You made the world a safer place.

I wanted you with me, before me, beside me, but you were ensnared, and I had to keep going. I couldn't stop, full of dread, horror, pushed along, slowing down, being dragged, like the path had begun to run under me like a conveyor belt, until I reached you.

I reached you, I stood next to you.

I stood over your lifeless body on the path, and I couldn't dare to move forward, no! Not alone into the wilderness without you, never, never.


Your body is heavy. Lifting, dragging it along is exhausting work, but I have to keep going, and you must come with me.

I am tired and sad. This corpse isn't you, but I'm afraid that it's all I have.


"Energy can never be destroyed," she reminds me, and it's true. From the tips of your cold, grey fingers in that hospital bed, from your bleeding mouth, flowed love and enthusiasm and passion. And you - you have changed me. You have changed the shape of my soul.

The blessing of your love weighs nothing at all.

I kiss your body and walk away.

And you come with me.