Loss of a relative

 Tonight at nine, we lay to rest,

My youngest brother, Fear, now blessed.

He did not live long, but he was raised right,

So brave, he took one breath before the night...

Together we passed many a test,

In my youth's morning, east to west.

Together we would go to school,

Together learned each worldly rule.

Only when I played, he would withdraw,

And keep a quiet distance from it all.

Discreet he was—by my side, I’d forget,

Yet strong in presence, never upset.

Many times I wronged his gentle grace,

For in the end, he guarded every space.

But as time passed, and I grew mature,

He met with age, less strong, less sure.

To some, he grew a bother, a weary sigh,

And less and less I spoke, passed slowly by.

Now I wither as I stand in view

Of his cold marble, gleaming, true—

I think that I, too, bear the blame,

For his early parting, his fading flame.

For I grew tired of living bound,

Carrying his cross on haunted ground.