OLD MAN

My brother died an old man;
He was only 33
We were the best of friends
before the war of 63

We spent our youth in mad pusuits
while surfing through the days
Chasing all the waves along
the shores of Monterey

Very much the same we were,
but different to a fault
Troubled minds are open wounds
and questions are like salt

He always had a chip to bear,
a weight without a name…
But then again as brothers go,
we still were one the same

Always somewhere else, he was,
the battles raged inside
Proving something to the world
a poor excuse for pride

Then one day he went off to fight;
A dragon breathing hell…
It ate him up and spit him back
to where the old men dwell

I went to visit many times,
this friend I used to know…
A person locked in space and time
who aged but did not grow

As old in body as in soul,
our dust gathers to dust…
The scars of war like rats will gnaw,
to get below the crust

The countenance of grace
reveals the mystery of one,
But nothing is for certain
once the will to live is done

My father died an old man,
He was only 64…
He lost his leg and elbow
in the first Korean War

Raised his family working
as a postman on the run…
Always keeping busy
to forget what he had done

For sorrow hides under the skin;
In bandages it seeps…
Forever a reminder that
the battle never sleeps

Waking you at certain times
to strike a question why…
People lose what’s precious most,
so long before they die

My brother was a father figure,
lost inside a boy…
Trying to take the lead beside
a life that was destroyed

Following my father to a jungle
in his mind…
Where darkness is the enemy
of circumstance and time.

Now time remains a devil
on a circus wheel, he spins
counting out the bodies
for the sum of all your sins

Keeping you a prisoner
of the choices that you made…
Forever doing pennance
for the souls you couldn’t save

For the eyes of age see double
when we factor in regret,
And age is just a number,
at the moment of our death

TM DiSarro