my brothers beneath the moon, arise - a poem

We shall never rise above earth

In this bound up life entangled

We live with contingencies

They link us by our works…

Yet by imaginations, we rise,

Above ourselves, our families,

And lay down lives no one knew

Until the pathetic moments we collapsed

Some of us in organized war

Others, stateside in our silent ways

Struggle as well, traumas unite,

My brothers know me, the quiet one…

‘Brother’ is recognition, a respite,

From the daily strangers who tide through

‘The workman knows the worker’

And life’s works for us, the brothers,

Never go undone…