A Poem for Corey

Here's the poem I mentioned in my post of pictures that I hadn't actually put on the blog. I performed it during Babel's show.

His body is reminiscent of where a man could've been

A brown paper bag full of bones

Reflected on smoky mirrors

He is life altering decisions made last minute and in reverse

His tongue

In deep refusal to become familiar with the taste of weakness

Admits to knowing no fault

No frailty

No room for regrets

He will never admit to being broken

Instead, he’ll call

Speaking in a tone as limp as the branches that sway from willow trees

Equipped with a decade’s worth of insecurities

And burdens just as heavy

As if a bent back were his birth right

And I will rush to his aid

Lose my sense of discretion in sake of his defense

Distribute the weight of his demolished dreams amongst us

And pray to God that the creek don’t rise

You’ll have to pardon me

But I cannot fail him

See, our blood be thick

And all he has to depend on

When his arrogant attitude just sounds like a cry for help

And it seems that no one else can hear,

What in my ears, is painfully obvious

He is just angry

In search of answers only God could grant him

And self-imposed isolation has become his greatest survival tactic

But it’s only a successful method if you let it be

Won’t you choose something else for once

I know it’s not fun

Not the first charitable event that you’d eagerly list on a resume

But you have the power to save a life today

To see the beauty in his rage

And forgive him for it

Though he will never offer an apology

It’s okay to hold him accountable for his actions

But help steer him into making good ones

I can’t be our mother

Can only provide so much comfort

Before I’m forced to remember that I am just his younger sister

Closest of kin

And I can’t be a man for him

But here is my plea

Think of the man he still has the chance to be

Before counting him off as a lost cause

And offering a dank, dark space
Encased by metal bars as his home

Consider this poem

Look up to the sky

Steal the North star

And offer it to him as the guiding light he’ll need to walk in the right direction

It’s the most humane crime you could ever commit

I promise I’ll convince him to keep it in his back pocket should he give you any lip

And he probably will

In that brown bag body of a boy still searching for something to call his own

I wrote him this poem

In hopes that at his next life altering decision

You might find a little time and patience to spare

If not, the heart, to offer him redemption

Smile For Me,

B