Christmas Is Here And I Miss My Brother Poem by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto

I prayed to all the Gods
beseeching them to let him live
and asking them to take him on another day;
I even pleaded with the angel of death
to spare his life
and let him return back to his home
where his children waited for him
to tell them bedtime stories of the past
and of his ancestors and his present relatives.
And as he lay there on his death bed,
I rustically knelt and prayed aloud
so many times with uncontrollable tears
silently gathering in my eyes
as I saw death nearing and trying to silence
his breath and heart.
And though I begged doctors to save him,
they kept saying
he was out of their reach,
and that he would not make it;
I kept telling myself
that I could not let him go
as we were not prepared for grief
neither for his absence so early
as he was so precious to our family.
But the mighty death played its ace
and pulled him up
leaving us all bewildered
as none could ever imagine
a man so brave could feel so helpless
and sleep there in the hospital
in such a deep coma
when it was his nature to fight back
and this enemy called death
was now targeting him
without any justification.
Yet it was the will of God that was prevailing
and since no man can ever challenge it,
we felt an affliction so hard to explain
that my brother must have felt it too;
the final moment suddenly whispered to us -
"let those eyes now close forever
as on this earth he has lived his time
and seen what is love and hate;
he has also seen happiness and joys
which many have had no chance to experience;
he has had riches and prosperity in his hands
which was a parallel blessing,
as many have never had as much as him;
and above all he has been a good man
with such noble qualities
and has spent his entire lifetime
in grandeur and tolerance
that brings us to a consensus
that if he will live again,
he must not suffer even an inch of pain.
Or if he will live he may not be
in the same health as before:
if he will walk, he might not be active,
if he will look, he might not still see anything
if he will hear, he might not speak or respond,
or if he will stand, he might just stumble and fall.
So God decided that it was not going to be easy for him
if his life continues after all that he had undergone:
so many days in coma, so many medicines in his system
that God Himself must have asked my brother -
would you like some more time on this earth;
he must have replied - 'O God, Thou art a God
and You alone would have to choose whether
I have to be live or go
as my fate is written and governed by You
and You alone can decide
whether I should stay on this side
or across the bridge with You'.
And God must have looked
in that book of accountability
and then put him to eternal sleep
looking at all the sufferings and pains
which he had borne and which had exceeded
in his time table of destiny
as while on this earth he existed
he had done all his duties like a true son,
like a loving brother, and a caring father
with full sincerity
that a dedication like his towards his family
was so rewarding and absolute.
Yes, it was all so unforgettable for me
and too unbearable to let him go;
so I implored even the angels to let him live,
and I explained to God that a brother to a sister
is what a sun is to the moon
and without the two close to each other
how would one shine without the light of the other?
How would I exist alone when together
we had grown up and lived thro' every sunshine
of turbulence and success
with strength of fraternity and unity?
Yet God said to me - 'he will have to go;
and as he goes, weep not my child
as you too will follow him someday soon;
so stop weeping as death is the only bridge
which all have to cross one day
whether it is a brother or a sister
whether it is a husband or a father';
yes death always wins the last game of life
when it plays the trump card
and shows the spade which digs a grave.