In this poem, Jordan brings to mind something Joshua said to me when Jordan was a little peanut struggling to thrive in the NICU soon after birth in April 2007. One day, Joshua said point-blank, "I don't want Jordan to die. Can I give him some blood or some air from my lungs to make him feel better?"
Medical improbabilities aside, it was a sweet gesture full of hope, the hope Jordan's voice reciprocates now.
On my tenth day he held me.
His smiles rolled down like a river.
Now held in a bed not fifty yards away,
He fights for his life.
When I was born, struggling, he asked
If he could give me blood or air
From his lungs. So deep was his wish
That I live as he seeks to do.
My parents cry to God, who watches him,
But does the Cross lurk behind
Clouds and darkness?
Come near, Jesus:
What my brother wanted before.
Come near, Jesus. Speak, speak to him,
Joshua, my brother, my brother.