John, I grieve for the brother I never had,
Your realness hidden–only a glimpse from a letter,
A childhood anecdote, to penetrate
The barrier-distance we mutually created.

I remember the shouting showdown fight, and the fear
Our rivalry was bordered on violence–
But also the one-day’s joy your driving me
Down to the Naval “reporting”, a parting embrace.

Then “missing”, “presumed dead”. And it was too easy
To categorize you in weaknesses
I mostly invented, and so to forget you. It was
Fifty years ago. Tonight I’ve a fresh

Hunger to have a brother, a “biq” one, my own.
I’ve been too long, too innerly alone.

Comment

My uncle John Robert Alvord was an army pilot and died at the battle of Midway in World War 2. Our family gathered each Memorial day on the Kittery Point bridge and cast flowers on the outgoing tide.

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