Posted in 2018-2019, November 2018, Poetry

Brother

By Gracie Hastings

I’ve grown to know you as a role model.
A silent, intelligent being.
I’ve never seen you cry.

Maybe your eyes have built barriers
to stop
the flow
of teardrop hurt

and your skin has turned to concrete
to suppress any
flush
of weakness.

I don’t believe that you’re careless.

Behind your clouded expression
you are trying to make sense of
the complicated while I
am trying to make sense of your silence.

I want to understand the different ways
in which we hold ourselves together.

You’ve locked your vulnerability
somewhere out
of reach
from other presences.

And I’ve stored my weakness
in the ballpoint of my pen.