bro·​ther

There's a permanent, almost mystical depth to brotherhood. The stories, the images, the word itself.

In a brother is a mate - the only other wand braided with the same fibers.

Just imagine the spells we cast.

-

Chris and I hum at the same frequency as we type side-by-side.

We remember the same songs as we wander narrow city streets,

he on the sidewalk, I on the street just below

Professorial in his altitude and certainty of mind

in my dependence, my reverence

'Is it always in the blood?'

I look back on our photos and wonder how I could have been discontent.

Time with him has always mended me;

it certainly does today

as we talk face to face, laughing cross-country,

reading each other's lips before any words have formed in our mouths

-

The puzzle is that even brotherhood isn't enough.

A partner, a brother, a best friend, a lover, a mirror - it took a pandemic and a season abroad to learn that even the strongest connections can only ever play a role.

That the ensemble of your life requires a wider cast, a deeper drink from many wells.

Even so,

my forehead will always be pressed against his.

Our heartstrings will always be playing in symphony;

playing, substantiating, resting.

And there is no greater peace.