_ A Nameless Wife _

I kept her in my pocket,
Closest to the heart
A place of warmth and memory.

I kept her safe,
Kept her from the rages of war
The destruction of life,
I kept her from the flying rounds of our enemies

The assaults of our nemesis
And the grip of doubt,
I kept her from it all
As I stared upon her as the sky lit in flashes,

I stared upon her beneath burning candles,
I looked upon her beneath the storms
Of these foreign lands,
These torn landscapes of massacre
As I wept upon the bodies of my brethren.

I felt her breath in the cold moments of winter
Huddled in the depth of snow
As the echoes of dying men howled,
As my heart grew silent,
Silent from ghastly visage of hell.

I held her,
With each passing second,
I held her till she was taken by the fires,
The brute of reality,
I am sorry I could not get you home
But I neither knew your name,
Nor your place,

I knew only the hand that held you,
The dead man pressed to the muck
Beneath my feet,
A deathly imprint of battle,
Crushed to the horrors of survival,

I tried,
And though I could not get you home,
For the flames of my enemy took my clothes,
And so burned my pocket nearest my heart.
Ashes you became,
Oh my nameless beauty,
You were my hope among the nightmares that have been upon me.

But I shall never forget,
But If I shall,
I pray God, shall have us meet,
So may find you nameless no more.
--
Micah Park Biffle

Just a man that was once lost in the pursuit of understanding himself. I write short stories, poems, and motivational pieces. (Instagram @poemjunkybiffle)

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