My brother rests in deepest sleep,
While by his side we stand and weep,
The goddess called to take his hand
And lead him to the Summerland
Our sense of loss runs ever deep.
A change in law too slowly creeps,
Desperate needs and talk is cheap
Zero tolerance they have planned
My brother, rest.
To the heart the grief is too steep,
Through emptiness the anger seeps,
In your name we make our demand,
Enforce the laws that they have planned,
The joy of life is never cheap
My brother, rest.
In Memory of Jean-Pierre Chastain, 28 July 1957-20 February 2013
©JG Farmer 2013
A Garret Poet 