To my brother, who won’t hear me.

Will you remember, little brother?

I see you there, walking my steps- walking their steps all those steps
Steps you think will take you higher, your brow in a frown as you climb
Higher and higher still.

I watch you, hidden behind veils as your adolescence takes you by the arms and shakes you, shakes the innocence out of your teeth.

Will you remember, little brother?

I see the light in your eyes, I wonder how far they will let you climb. I see the art in your fingers, I wonder if they will smash the Howard Roark in you.
I want to reach you, through the layers of dismissal you throw on me, piece together the glasses you’ve shrugged off.

I am steeped in silence, the silence inside you cannot reach, will you remember little brother, how bright I used to be?

Won’t you please learn, hold your innocence not so negligently? They shoved black holes inside me,
your books on metaphysics won’t save you from that destiny.

Don’t walk that path, the path riddled with people who lift you in their arms of popularity. I’ve seen crowds drop man after man, stamp on them the dejection of reality.
Your potential leaks from your skin, marks you-
Don’t walk towards your clichéd existence.

Little brother, don’t you remember, everything I could have taught you but didn’t?
You’ve learnt so much, with your head full of talent and unsurpassed patience, I can smell the need for approval that wafts of your skin.

Your pride, your laughter, they will leave untouched
That innocence brother, which you never valued,
The loss of that will hurt.
Remember, little brother.

Written in inadequacy after stumbling upon my younger brother’s Facebook profile. It is unnerving to watch someone so full of life grow up, knowing what awaits him in a few years time.
He is walking the lines of the same stereotypes I have drawn on people I have rejected, he is walking towards stereotypes, my misguided Howard Roark is careening into a Peter Keating.
Also,They were right, someone gave me pessimism for eyes.

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2 thoughts on “To my brother, who won’t hear me.

  1. You know, every once in a while, the blogosphere throws me a curve like this. “Someone gave me pessimism for eyes.” I think that one will stay with me for a long, long time. It could be written as my epitaph.

    Liked by 1 person

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