And the Angels Wept

A poem of my brother's futile struggles to survive.

He was a toddler
when our father died young
of heart disease.
Always had a winning smile
that everyone loved,
but for years after,
he would get on his hands and knees
and pound his head on the hard floor,
much the same way as one bites down hard
on a toothache to relieve the pain.


No one shed a tear for him


He was a teen
when he was shot in the chest
with a shotgun.
The doctors said,
he should have died
but he was strong.
Spent years in the hospital
Underwent dozens of surgeries
to restore his arm
that was almost severed
from his body.


No one shed a tear for him


While in the hospital,
the "love of his life" dumped him
with the words
“I don’t want to be married
to only half a man.”
He lived his remaining life
in emotional and physical pain
until his untimely death
from heart failure
at a young age
like our father
before us.


And the Angels wept.