I do not need evidence

I do not need evidence that I am safe here

It’s in my bones

This aliveness

A sanctuary

Even in its broken state

The way these primeval synapses

Turn the embodied verdict

Into a house on fire

Even here

Among the flames

And barred windows

I’m home

So I sit here

Reciting my godless prayers

Counting my blessings

Like anchors

In a bottomless sea

A recognition

A freedom in it:

That this is the lowest

That I’ve been here before

And that’s when I remember my brother

Dead now 21 years

Frozen as an image, a gesture

The exact pitch of air hum

As he exited or entered a room

The way the dead are remembered

When they die young

I see him

16, already man bodied

Strutting

His shirt off

Making mom proud

And blush

At what a silly and able creature

She created

How he could make her laugh, and also weep

And that time

After mom and dad fought

Back before they gave up on fighting

Mom at the iron

Staring out our modern floor to ceiling window

At what I’m guessing was herself and her life and all its failings

And becomings and not-so becomings

And behind her, my brother’s generous arm

Enclosing her

So that she knows

He knows

And me

A child

Knowing only enough

To keep my mouth shut and observe

Sideways and silently through a reflection

This mysterious love

Memory now and factual

As faith