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Louder Than A Bomb - The Poet and Her Poems - Nova Venerable
Posted: Thu 01/05/2012 11:55 AM
By Nova Venerable
My youngest brother was born
with my grandfather's nose
round like spools of thread,
my father's eyes and
my mother's genes.
He is 12 years old now and
I watch him play
Hungry Hungry Hippos,
see his body jitters like a wind up toy
and he screams like a happy crow
when he asks me to play with him.
He tries to learn the words
to the Scooby-doo song,
repeats the phrases my mother
and I say, and when I see him,
I wonder how could God know that
Diabetes peels 27 years of life
like dead skin.
Yet he still allows my brother
to have his fingers pricked
Why is it when I look
at him, I can see every needle
we've ever had to stick
his arms, legs, or stomach with
to keep him alive.
Sometimes five shots a day
isn't enough to fight juvenile diabetes.
How could God bless him
with seizures and autism.
Why every time we rush him to the hospital
it could be my last day watching
him rewind on-demand
until his lips can curve
to form words
that aren't even his because my mother gave
him a broken X chromosome.
I will smile
As he learns to brush his teeth for the first time
or obsesses over his red pants and shirts,
I will laugh as he tries to learn sign language
to make up for tongue lost in Fragile-X
and I will accept his fake kisses
But I can't help but wonder
Can his brain still hold the times
I meshed his food up when he was 8
or changed his diapers at 7.
Will he miss me
when I am not there to run my fingers
through his hair like Pink Oil
when he wakes up from
ear tube surgeries or seizures.
Will he remember
how he slept in my bed every night
after mama left,
and I held him like an extra pillow.
Or when my arms were his restraints
when daddy said put him in middle
without seatbelt so he would be the
first to die in car accident.
Can he know how he found
a mother in big sister?
I will pray for him every night
that his kidneys will stop trying to fail on us,
that his blood sugar won't send him into
that he won’t grow accustomed
to not pronouncing my name
when I go away to college, and I pray
I pray that his seizures won't kill
him before his diabetes does.