The Last Word

My Brother, Houston:
July 9, 1989 -- A Victim of AIDS

Childhood was a strange time.
We were raised separately, and then
He came into our lives, but mostly
I remember his bright eyes!

As we grew older,
I came to understand him more.
He was part of our lives, but mostly
I remember his bright eyes!

In our middle years
There was no doubt --
My love for him grew stronger, but mostly
I remember his bright eyes!

A phone call sends me to the hospital
To see my brother lying there, dying there.
Unable to communicate --
His eyes closed.

And then his eyes sunk.
And then his eyes sunk deeper.
Now no longer with us . . .
But mostly I remember his bright eyes!

-- Antoinette-Marie Williams

Dear AIDS

Conscious inhalation of my soul led me to you,
And with sedated insight, I greeted your presence.
As I medicated because of my interpretations of what
Situations I presented to myself,
We knowingly partied . . .
I feared your name and welcomed your totality,
Yet, we played. . . !

By the time I learned to live again,
It was too late, you had moved in.
Yet I find myself thanking you,
For helping me rid my soul of the self prescribed crutches,
That binded me to deniability.

For so many years you've been part of me,
Your presence has left me addicted . . .
I don't know how to live without you. . . ?!? . .&nbsp.

Complacent with your goal
I've learned to accept you,
And let it define me.
Yet with sarcastic irony
How do you define death,
While denying it. . . !
So while we wait for you to take my life,
I thank you for giving me back my life. . . ?!? . .&nbsp.

Confused,
PLWA

-- Candido G.