Opinion
Little Brother — Poem —
Agadir, Morocco
My family says
it was an angel
who helped me
lift you
over the high walls
of the cradle.
I remember only the haze
of the approach
to put you back
in the arms
of our mother.
She had the strength.
I was a child,
too scared
for kindergarten,
or anything outside
the sun
of our garden.
Teachers had us
draw maps
to remind us
of nearness
to our beloved,
arrows and smiles
pasted
on the roads
and crossings.
I brought you
forward, my shield
from questions.
You brought me
forward,
a maker of maps
for somewhere safe,
above the angels.