My brotherís friends walked
by his side,
And they carried him to his bed.
Before me they marched,
Leaving dewy footprints in my head,
Walking and shouldering my brother,
Carrying him to his bed.†
I remember the anguish in their eyes,
That mirrored the crushing in my chest.
I remember the way their legs bent,
The way some of them grunted a little,
The way they cried, but tried to see,
To take that awful cargo dutifully upheld
That none of them wished to carry,
And that no brother wished carried.
All around us, a forest of black,
With rain drops falling on the ground.
Fine expensive shoes marching on
Through, across my confused mind,
To the waiting plot in my consciousness
Where they would lay him to rest forever.
They carried my brother unto his bed.