Nearer

A poem for my oldest brother, Steven Thomas Judge (1959-2013), who suffered, lived, and loved with schizophrenia for 34 brave and beautiful years.

Steven Thomas Judge (1959-2013)

Nearer

        for my brother Steve 
 
I woke to my brother’s voice, 
“Walk naked with me.” 

There’s no forgetting the sight of him
bouncing down Main Street, 

heels, strangely, never touching 
pavement. He was reed thin 

and impossibly limber, 
as if his bones had soaked 

in vinegar. His body jerked 
up and down, up and down—

I thought of a marionette, 
strings rising to the sky—

his eyes, sidelong, fearful.
I closed mine and tried 

to remember my brother 
before his mind went wrong. 

But I couldn’t. When I opened 
them he was nearer. His eyes 

softened, the fear lifted. 
For a moment he was again 

who he was born to be, the young 
man with golden hair who carried me 

home with a broken leg a lifetime 
ago. “Take me to Mercy,” he said.