Oak

Oak
By John Ciccariello • 2000
I miss you brother nephew father men
The wife of my brother, my nephews mom
We lost you around the medical confusion bend
Careening out of control, to the great beyond.
We have lost him I cried
Don't stay if you're not here; fly.
Oak you became all
Encompassing the lost to this date
So young to you he called
Our god, our life, our fate.
Your body with its inherent strength and power
I remember you straight to this living hour.