Brother

By Linda Donaldson

A small family now
Halved by deaths
Short in stature
Shrunk by grief
Father before son
Son before mother
Brother before sister
Half his life lived.
We two siblings
marriages without births
Voyager in your DNA
to the farmer in mine
Wanderlust wind swept you
from the drink that
surrounded
our two halves
our island.
Your flight: 30 hours away
my fight: at latitude 37 south
Here, June is the month of
short days. Longer nights.
Curtains drawn, frosted earth
No sun, music or festival farewell
In memory of you
We will eat icecream
flecked with gold
Each chill crunch
A wintry tribute.
Us two women left
we will go west
to the wild beach.
Anchor our toes.
Pink picks in dark sand.
We’ll haul you back across the sea.
Let the wind brush cold
through our hair
As you pass over
the crashing surf
Going north, north, always north
But this time, to the leaping place.

Dedicated to my brother, Lloyd Donaldson (1963-2010)

This poem was generously shared with Go With Grace, as part of Dying Matters Week 2024. Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful words.