Both boys loved each other.
\nBoth shared brotherhood.
\nBoth lived in the wickerwork
\nof war.
\nTime was lightning and thunder
\nand nonsense.
\nThe twenty-one year old,
\nfurloughed from carnage,
\nstood by the hospital bed
\nof his nine year old brother.
\nThat\u2019s prose.
\nExplosions kill poetry,
\nkill children and bewildered men.<\/p>\n
The young boy would survive
\nhis surgery.
\nThe older brother emptied his
\npocket of coins.
\nEverything he had left of life,
\nand love.
\nAnd Jack, the older returned
\nto the storm,
\nthe little boy to his toys
\nand pieces of childhood
\nthat still remained.<\/p>\n
Time moved its currents
\npast other shores.
\nJack was butchered with his
\ncomrades in the dark gloom
\nof winter.
\nCharles went on to another place,
\nwork, family.<\/p>\n
But in odd places,
\nat holidays, midnight,
\nin the courtroom where he worked
\nthey returned to each other, time on time.
\nFor an instant,
\nan imaginal place between them.
\nThe coins were returned
\nto Jack\u2019s resting site in Europe.
\nA white cross at the head
\nof the war\u2019s lost destinies.
\nThe closest stars in heaven.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Both boys loved each other. Both shared brotherhood. Both lived in the wickerwork of war. Time was lightning and thunder and nonsense. The twenty-one year…<\/p>\n