By   Jay White,

 

She  stood at the helm of the storm

And she was the one who could sail

The little boat of death

toward the far shore without panic.

So much good can happen out there

with the wind tearing things loose.

You can fling tears from your face

without worry.

You can feel your arms and legs

welcome this vigil.

You are the person who knows,

What your boat can do

at such a rare point of weather.

 

My brother’s poem

in response to an insight shared,

a trust.