Boon of the Erth

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Red and blue
I'm travelling between the rivers of angry resentment and lethargic depression.
I feel like a shambling, unsteady bridge of twigs and mud, haloed by the impending glow from the waters below. I might crumble, fall and drown, swept away someplace.

Migration
The Canadian High Comission mailed a polite and well outlined (which is a nice gesture that I appreciate) letter to the house. Its was a soft way of rejecting my Brother's PR request and sponsorship to Canada. He was to go under my parents as a dependant.
I understand the costings he will incur, and if he made it - they would pay for his training, adaptation into society there (they have wonderful government social responsibility), and as I understand it, have someone to watch over him (social wroker) to check in on him occasionally.
I could be wrong, but it has to be better than here.
I don't see our government with the financial or social backing (blame the citizens partially), for handling the handicapped; physical and mental.

5 years we waited.
Year after year, as evalutation dates are pushed back for new reinstatement and reconsideration laws into Canada (due to pressure from the US a year after 9/11) to be more stringent. The tsanami catastrophe, as they are given precedent on applications first (they are socially conscious, which relfects this action) ...
And the money spent ...

Mirror
It might have been easier if I were in the family inclusion package for PR sponsorship. Even though my brother would have beem entered as a "burden on state", my qualification as a professional would have balanced things out.
But no.
The delays meant I was well over 25, and already working. It wou;d have to be me as under 21 to be claimed as a dependant or even as long as I was still studying - but I couldn't just keep studying.
Now to begin again?
If he were to apply under me now, it would be weird c oz my parents are still alive and he's not a dependant on me, until something happens to my parents. And ... like that's a better choice.
We can appeal - but unless we are under more dire straits, it would change little.

Fuck.
fuck the shitty damn shit ass fucking twat machine crank pussy whacker shithole wonder ass-licking crackwhore fuck.
And I say that in the quietest, mildest way I can.

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Prose

When Tide told Time,
he could not wait.
Time obliged and followed.
I was left behind.
Suffering from the cold void.
The winds of abandonment.

There were no snakes
that crawled in temptation.
No ladders to lend their weight.
Bleak, laughable silence.
I thought it would last.