Heading Down the Long Road South to Home

Heading down the long road south to home,

highway driving, cruise control and auto pilot,

to visit with my brother, to ask some questions,

get some answers I can’t find, for he would know

what to do. He always did, growing up, whether

I asked or not, whether I listened or not, took his advice

or not, and well into adult life he’s been there for my own

troubled life with advice, assurances, and answers.

So I’m headed home to where he lies in state now

in an ancient cemetery, among the like-minded,

common men whose strength lay in themselves,

without fanfare, laurel leaves, or crowns atop their heads,

settled among the gravestones where we seek them,

shed our tears and feed our grief and leave wondering

still, but buoyed up by their strength, by the answers

they leave us with, found only in these visits home,

heading down the long road south to home.