Can I blame the sea,
her ribbons of want,
miles of madness,
though she is - remains -
distant sister to us both,
calling us, calling us home
in thoughtspun whispers.

Can I blame the boat,
the broken cup of it,
fighting for surface
in oilstained utters,
words I only hear in dreams now,
like your words, brother;
the unclenched fist of it
with three lives spilled out.
And then there were two.

Can I blame the men,
those weather changed men,
rough as thumbs but - oh -
so tender when they whisper
goodbye
before your landbound casket,
when they say
how they prayed with you.

Steven, you said there were dolphins
and the world could not hold
such heartborne excitement,
couldn't fetch such a beautiful sunset.
Because you loved the sea.
You loved that boat.
You loved those men.

There can be no blame.


- In Memory of Steven
Aug. 26, 1980 - March 19, 2006
Rest in peace, little brother.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...