I have two for you today.
I am the shape of evergreens,
ever upward, strong, true,
swaying when the wind speaks,
lovely in the snow.
I am the shape of golden beams,
rich and familiar, bask in, yet
cannot hold, slow, gentle burning,
still and never still, only here a while yet.
Our father named me Forget,
he named my brother Faithful.
I wonder if he knew, when he called me,
what a weight it is to live into
that name. A name that calls me
to be louder than sorrow.
I wonder if it is that name
which caused Jacob’s hand
to find Faithful more suitable
for blessing than I. My father,
for once, did not forget,
he righted his own father’s hands;
but Jacob did not forget either.
I’ve been told he stole his blessing.
I suppose he thought Faithful
should not have to steal
like him. I suppose Faithful
is easier to rest the promise
of a nation upon, than Forget.