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My Brother passed 24 June 2019.

An Ode to My Brother “Kevin”

Kevin was born, the fourth child, sworn

In Gods’ true family, a baby’s destiny

Rejoice-full stares and thankful prayers

Of a healthy child, of a mother mild

At coming through, the process true

The laughter sought, begotten naught

Of the miracle there, a lifetime bare

For all to see such a healthy deed

As Kevin grows, there’s something throws

My parents off, their happiness tossed

For something’s wrong, the mind’s not strong

A normal test, stagnation rests

Amid the wires, short circuit fires

The body’s good, with thoughts that should

Be normal fare for all to share,

But horrid thoughts of retard brought those tears to their eyes

Kevin grew, his body true,

With a childlike stance, pure innocence

Not violent nature, more godlike creature

He laughed and played till nature stayed

His friends away at an early age

They grew apart for their thoughts were smart

For Kevin stayed a certain way

His body grew but nature threw a curve his way

I knew of him, a brother’s whim,

Though smart I’m not to that life a lot

My ignorant ways, those selfish days

My life to live, and little to give

My Dad was there to share his cares

A life protected, Dad’s love projected

They were pals you see and fun to be

For around the home all sports were known

But nature came, struck down that game,

My dad was gone, forever done

His fractured heart, its damaged part

A life cut short, so young, so “mort”

His pal’s alone, confused, and thrown

Aside you see, society

Understanding less, his best time guest

Was forever done, forever gone

I woke up fast to a lifetime cast

My mother’s burden to raise him further

For Kevin’s mind, so childlike finds

The wrestler’s madness became Kevin’s gladness

His thoughts were busy, wrestle-mania frenzy

It kept him sharp and today he’s smart

Of thirty-years of wrestling fears

Adrenalin rush, stark madness crush

The Sheiks a bust, Laredo lusts,

The pencils fly into the eyes, the crowds all cheer.

Hulk charges thus, Rick Flair’s not just

Stone Cold you see, his heroes be

The wrestling greats, alive he waits

For the next excursion, the Sky-Dome version

Wrestle-Mania Eight, Summer-Slams, can’t wait.

His life so simple, his dolls his symbols

To comprehend my lifetime trends

My worries there, my foolish cares

I think of him, our “Tiny Tim”

A life so precious, his thoughts so gracious

I see him often, my burdens soften,

His outlook ‘s clear, no worried fears

For he ain’t sharp – no matter smarts

His life is dear to those few so near

I am so lucky

To have him

As my brother

© John Morrison, 2004