Brother, brother,

I saw you silhouetted against the flames

And I saw those rags which clothed you burn,

As you turned to me and called my name

In everlasting agony,

One last, passionate, vocal spasm

You called my name,

And not the name of your lover

Or the name of your mother

Or even the name of your God.

Brother, brother, you called my name as you burned

And I could not answer you

Because I was frightened

And I was afraid, that if I turned to you

As you had turned to me

Then both of us would burn.

These dreams are irrational,

But on that day in 1987

I was born

And you were born

And I was breathing

And you were not.