i. ❝He’s in heaven now.❞ You’re SEVEN the first time he grieves, & you learn what cruelty is. You don’t have the heart to tell Murph. To SAY you saw the neighbor feed his mangy black dog, green pellets for doing away with his morning paper for the umpteenth time. Hands raw—You BOTH dig up a peaceful grave in a field of clovers. As a propercatholic.YOU can forgive. But you DON’T forget.The hiding your mam gives you for breaking the rat bastard’s front windows, is well worth it. ii. ❝It’s alrigh’.—❞ You don’t know what else to say & big baby blues are welling with tears as he holds the broken remains of your father’s keepsake.An old medal— Saint Nicholas. At ten years old? You aren’t afraid to LASH out at others. To bare your teeth in a snarl. Raised by wolves!, the teachers huff at you as you pass in the school hallways. & you are PROUD. Your mother forged you with FIRE in her belly.Yet? You can’t bring yourself to turn your anger on Murphy. To strike, like only you know how. His fingers are wrung raw from how hard he’s been worrying his hands—DRIED tear tracks on his cheeks.He knows what it means to— you.But all YOU do is pull him close, and hold him tight. Somehow? It only makes him cry HARDER. iii. ❝I understand—❞ You’re sprawled on the floor. Mouth tasting like a shiny new copper penny.SIXTEEN? Ain’t that sweet.Murphy is sorry the instant it leaves your mouth. SORRY for the split in your lip— The way you’ve taken these lashes meant for an absentee father. You feel older than your bones. Feel the sorrow creeping through your veins like thistle & weed.WHY? WHY does your mother drink herself to sleep? WHY does your brother cry in his? WHY are you not ENOUGH to keep your fractured little family together? You are NOT Atlas. But for ONCE. The weight of the question threatens to crush you where you lay. Murphy crumples on top of you. Head tucked underneath your chin— Your eyes remain DRY. iiii. ❝Do you love ye’ self?❞ She’s finally left him— & though his eyes are wet with tears. You are PRESENT and accounted for despite your relief on the matter. It takes time to heal. & perhaps he will bear the scars a bit longer than you’d like. But—There WILL be a person out there. A gentle heart with easy smiles & laughter. You make a mental note to pray for them. So that their journey to HIM will be short, as you make an uncouth joke & he snorts a snot bubble out in unexpected mirth. ❝Love ye’ self like I do—❞ You huff obnoxiously, and ruffle his hair as he rolls his eyes. What you DON’T say? Is that HE’S the only part of you—You love FIERCELY. v. ❝I’ll come back from tha’ dead for ye.❞ His panic is acrid on your tongue—You can TASTE it on your palate after you’ve killed the eighth man that’s threatened your lives. Your breaths come short.With eyes true blue, and fathomless you are ENOUGH to calm him as your hold tightens around his nape. You would cross HELL itself barefoot if he needed you. So what if you’ve had your own close calls? A life WITHOUT your brother would be a shadow of existence. HE tames the demons licking at your soul. The dark that looms to swallow you whole, every time you draw your gun and fire in the name of righteousness. ❝I promise.❞ you murmur, and press your lips against his temple as he crumbles with a sob. He believes you.IN you. Despite all the fantastical stories & idiotic things you’ve said? Your flesh & blood would follow blindly. But then?You’ve never lied to HIM, consistency is key. And though your lungs burn with effort? You WILL fight. Perhaps even GOD himself someday—To return to him if you are ever felled.
