Brother, Can You Spare A Rhyme?

myself & brothers in boot camp, 1967.

Brother, Can You Spare A Rhyme?

“I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound

to the starless midnight of racism & war that the bright daybreak

of peace & brotherhood cannot be a reality.”--Martin Luther King, Jr.

Brothers can be,     usually are,      biological,

                     part of an actual family unit,        someone

                 to compete with during our childhood,

            over parental affection, first loves, 

food, grades, space, girls, teams, & fast cars.

Not everybody has one; 

some have a dozen.           They do not always get along,

                                  as it is with all siblings.

                        There seems to be specific problems

                                  associated with the birthing pecking order--

oldest, middle, & youngest.                 It is an individual personal 

              dynamic that simply defies generalization. 

From the Greek Republic

through the naked brilliant essence of Socialism,

to the stirring rhetorical seeds of Democracy,

              Brotherhood               

                                                 has been the touchstone,

                                                                 the heart,

                                                                 the foundation.

                                                                 the talking point

                                                 that has been much touted,

                                       infinitely discussed & always strived for.

In my life

many wonderful brothers

have appeared                         midst various alliances, schools, sports,

                                         the Navy, vocations, education,

                               and the holy pursuits of poetry, philosophy, & the Arts.

             As our work-life concludes, we glance about & count

      the brothers that are still in our sphere,

for some only portrayed brothers for a finite period,

            under specific circumstances,

            within set parameters,                 & then they went their own way

                       forging new alliances within other relationships.

Brother, much too often,

can be an overused insincere term,

dropped from lips casually,

without really being earned,

             like the hackneyed use of the word

             Love,                it can be as false,

                                                     as hollow,

                                                     as empty

                                                     as chestnut husks, or

                                                     as discarded cocoons.

If we are fortunate late in life,

estrangement with actual brothers

can be mended, healed, re-bonded,

as the foibles of youth

& the raging libidos ebb.

Now that my own brother & I are both retired,

               we are finding it easier to accept & accommodate to

                            each other’s eccentricities, suddenly able to

                                 regain respect & loyalty for each other,

                        as we share the retrospective historical overview

                 of our family’s tragedies & successes;

just hug each other

& be ever so grateful that

we are still firmly bonded

during the third act of our lives. 

I used to believe that there was no more room in my life for any new

brothers to appear,

              to endear,

              to revere,               but alas, I tell you through the fabulous

                                   fellowship of Poetry, fresh brothers continue to

                          materialize from all over the globe, as mere cyber-friends

                 have eclipsed simple communication & their heartfelt sharing 

has pierced the veneer of my misplaced resolve, enriching my stasis

                 with unforeseen intense brotherhood--that has actually expanded

          my mind,

          my heart, & my world view.           Miraculously, through the vital venue

                                                         of Poetics, this masculine intimacy

                                                   flourishes, & my individual pack of brothers

                                              continues to swell its ranks--

& on those good days when events dovetail, minds merge, & spirits soar,

I even feel the stirrings of my old idealism, & I am beginning to believe that

the weeping woes of this planet can be reduced by the sheer volume of

hopefulness as millions of poets proliferate within every society, nation, race,

border, group & heart. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Poetics

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