A homage to Dr. Wilder Penfield, on his 127th birthday and to my brother D. J., on his 39th birthday

Yes, each one of us has a soul,
the ones who see colors when music is playing,
the ones who smell nonexistent burnt toast during a grand mal seizure,
the ones who hear voices every time they walk around

The brain is a curious thing.
It will rewire its pathways after a sudden injury,
and can detect things out of sync, yet being in sync while in the same instant.

The weirdoes, the beautiful ones and the strong shall survive the longest.
Especially those raising young children, like my younger brother
who grew up wanting a brother; now he’s raising two of them.

I wonder how his brain is wired?
Dr. Penfield, one of the greatest Canadians and neurosurgeons,
recognized its fragility, weirdness, beauty and strength.

Not everyone could snap their fingers.
I can’t but he could; he can’t sing but I could.
He can’t see the color green, or can’t lie to save his own life.
I miss my brother plenty. I hope he’s fine today.

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