A few weeks ago my big brother Frank died in #Berlin. No one knows what happened because we are not old enough to die of natural causes. We’re called #boomers, too young to die, too old to live… His friends must have missed him. Apparently not the family. The #police broke into the apartment and found him there, lifeless.
I wrote this poem for him, accompanied it with music and my spoken words …

Then I hear yours

The last time I was standing on the tracks
no, I didn’t want to travel
Steel on steel and then that scream
the train sped past me, unperturbed
Squeaking and screaming unstoppable
Not understanding, I stood there on the embankment

The sun was low and blood red
I thought of Frank, but he was long dead
My brother I never loved and he didn’t love me
yet the news was like a pang
Are we all ready?
for the way to eternity

Come take my hand and hear my song

And I take yours and I’m so glad
that you show me yours.
I sing for you – you sing for me
You sing mine and I sing yours
whether straight or sloping – as we like to think

Then I hear yours.
Then you hear mine.
Then I’ll sing yours.
Then you sing mine.

I heard it on the radio.
Read it in the newspaper here.
People talked about it too.
My car drove very slowly
as if by magic
and I saw your cross.

I wanted to say sorry.
Turn everything back to zero.
But no matter how much you want it,
it won’t work, it doesn’t make sense because it’s over.
It’s over like the breath from just now
and yesterday’s smile.

Come take my hand and hear my song
And I take yours and I’m so glad
that you show me yours.
I sing for you – you sing for me
You sing mine and I sing yours
whether straight or sloping – as we like to think

Then I hear yours.
Then you hear mine.
Then I’ll sing yours.
Then you sing mine.

And tires roll through the dust
the sun dries the tears
drops lie on the skin like salt
give me another cigarette
and show me your song
which I then sing … and you sing mine …

(c) 2023 by David Stern