My brother came to me in a dream
He thanked me for standing by him,
For believing him when very few could.
I told him I never believed him.
“You didn’t want to know,
You never asked.
You just wanted to think that someone believed.
I didn’t matter to you.
What I thought was never of great consequence.
You just didn’t care if I believed you or not.
So why come to me now?
Are you searching?
Or is this my doing,
Somewhere in a restive slumber
Hoping beyond hope that you could?”
The whole thing has me worn.
I’m tired of praying that my disbelief is the sin of my arrogance,
That the truth has not gone with him to the grave.
I hope I was wrong to think him a liar,
Because even if he didn’t care what I thought,
I care what he did.