Something Good

Maybe I did some good today,
minuscule perhaps,
but still
I caused two women
in a faraway land
to smile.

It started simply…
I lifted their suitcases
up the rickety bus steps.

They sat near me
and we talked

ages
children
grandchildren
families

universal truths
in unknown languages

I understood every word.

Mom, on January 1, 2005

My brother
dead for thirty years
I scream at him
still.

My father dead almost as long
I often smile
touching his tools
thinking of him.

My mother
dying beside me
how will I remember her?

I never knew my old brother
dead at twenty-one
or my old father
dead at fifty-six
(although I didn't think
fifty-six so young
then).

But I know my old mother,
eighty four
last birthday.
Tomorrow
how will I dream of her?

Young like my brother
my father
or old like today?

Young I hope
just
sometimes old
as a warning
of what not to become.