Brother

Brother,
Although the bed smells like
safety, and the blankets cling
to your shoulders
(as if cloaking you as Eddard,
turned North to the Wall)
To be a mountain is not
your fate;
Nor a plain, for others to
pass through.
Ebb as the sea does,
crash down as a tidal wave.
Make all known,
and court sirens at twilight
with your soothing rhythms.