Moody Reflections Precipitated By My Brother’s Death

This story could end before it begins
  It could die with the death of my brother
    But it lies in my mind not wanting to die
      So it begins where I begin it.

It begins in sight of the end that I saw
  As my brother was drifting to death
    His height had been reached he was fighting his fall
      He would not see the depth he had reached.

Drifting through the past on paths he saw
  He was carried by the grandeur of Dad
    All through his soul there was but one goal
      feel his goal in your soul and be sad

We were born to a time that was grand in his mind
  It was an era of greatness the time we were born
    We were told from the start that we stood apart
      There was always more than there seemed

It seemed to me it was sad to see
  there was always more than there seemed
    but Jay was guided by the light of the tales that were told
      and he lived to tell the tales of old

Jay lived to tell the tales of the old
  But they were more than he ever could be
    Spurred by fear his vision was blurred by fear
      He feared he was not more than he seemed

Fear through the night smoke through the night
  Endurance enduring till the new day
    Sleep comes so dear to quell Jay’s fear
      Can I be good enough in this new day

What could he do to know he was worthy
  to be the son of Dad
    he could pull smoke to his lungs and eat corned beef
      feel his goal in your soul and be sad

Our father took pride in how his knife would slide
  Across the grain of fat-swollen beef
    Jay stood in awe he ate all he saw
      Jay loved the fat of the beef

But it was more than the beef the savory beef
  The glisten of fat on his chin
    Jay fell to the spell of the tales Dad would tell
      Of how corned beef had to be sliced thin

But who was he to be the he — the one to slice the beef
  It was a matter for men …
    Far beyond the ken
      of men lesser than the man dad be
        of kids like jay and me

Oh …..the goal of our soul – set so low
  We were bourn never to be able to achieve
    a goal as low as slicing corned beef
      Good grief it’s just sliced beef

All through the night – pacing the night
  Jay racing the stories that bound his being
    That blinded his eyes and kept him from seeing
      Corned beef is just corned beef

Jay’s home was alone he could be home only alone
  Smoking and fighting to find
    The right of his life in stories he told
      Alone smoking alone on the phone

Dirty old phone
  Alone on the phone
    Smoke on the phone
      Pleading the stories of life
Hear Jay
  See Jay seeing Jay be a man
    Who could stand in the light of the man
      Jay’s stories made Dad be

Homes are needed for stories to be told
  And Jay found homes for his stories of old
    Whose home was the home whose house he was in
      when he dared to speak of slicing beef thin

Where was Jay the day his truth held sway
  and he strove to stand as a man
    In a strange home where other truths are told
      Jay carved thin slices of the fat of old

And Jay sliced with the art of a showman
  Never showing the alone man standing in the shadowed land
    Darkened by the light of the man
      Jay’s stories made Dad be

Time passed since the day Dad held us in sway
  awed by his power to slice
    Time passed since the day Dad passed away
      leaving no one left to slice

I ran from the world where right fed jay’s might
  and ever-wrong I could never belong
    But I’m ever bound to the stories ever bound to my mind
      The stories of wrong and right

Did I drift away from the stories of old
  from the vision of fat swollen beef
    Did I drift or run and do I still run
      seeking relief from what seemed to be beef

Still ever in my being Jay is still seeing
  Dad standing tall knife in hand
    The carving board is dark and worn with time
      the corned beef glistens shining schmaltz-shine

And I slice with the art of a showman
  Never showing the alone man standing in the shadowed land
    Darkened by the light of man
      My stories make Jay and Dad be

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