i don’t see heroism inherent in the dapple of your camo
i don’t fall at the altar of ares indiscriminately
i adhered to a pacifist belief in discourse and debate up to now
i detest the blindly patriotic vision of the star spangled devotee
a hero to me had always been an elusively romantic idea
unrecognizable in the common man as i saw them
an act of heroism an impossibly inhuman defying of natural law
until i saw you pick up your bag and put on that bulletproof diadem
out of the depths of complexity of duty to country and commander
out of obligation to provide for wife and child
and a tendency towards charity and unflinching candor
you silently took up arms and joined the rank and file
in your sacrifice you became my hero
as i know that sacrifice was rooted in love for her and i
a desire to prove yourself a provider a sanctified nero
without the vice and all the comforts to be quantified
with upright piety i have never seen in a soul
and unvoiced pain which lends itself to battered strength
you ventured alone into a combative world dividing my whole
heart carved into a token of luck of magnetism of guidance down that path
a salute to a hero by any other name
as that which he would never claim

My Love,

This Saturday I have thought of you all day and of all the Saturdays we have been blessed to share together. I cherish the memory of those small moments of waking late, resting my head on your chest as we gather the wherewithal to escape the comfort of pillows and blankets and cuddling.
We used our Saturdays for big breakfasts sometimes. Pancakes, sometimes dotted with various fruits, waffles, eggs & bacon, or something entirely new. I liked to test new recipes on you and you always seemed more than happy to oblige.
We always seemed to be moving on Saturdays, our schedule usually full of some odd jobs or obligation. Invitations from family and friends piled up through the week. The stillness of my weekends now seems so peculiar when I think back on the flurry of those afternoons and early evening.
But the evenings were usually ours as we joked about being old people who preferred to stay in on weekends. Hearty dinners and curled up in front of the TV. Something on Netflix that didn’t always register because my eyes were so full of you.
And always, always I felt the magnetism of your body close to mine, the heat of your skin raising the blush of my own. Baby, from the very beginning you owned me in every way, my soul yearned for yours and I felt things I have never felt before. It was my awakening. I have to believe in soulmates because I have felt the connection between us so keenly and even an ocean and a continent away I feel you. The string of fate is bound securely from your heart to mine.
I love you. I don’t ever want the repetition of the phrase to diminish what I feel when I say it. I love you. I love you. The words drag through my veins and into my stomach, it is almost painful the depth of emotion those words pull from me because I mean them towards you.
My Saturdays are filled with caring for daughter at the moment, with waiting for your call, a few minutes of seeing your face pixelated on a tiny screen but it is still the most beautiful sight that fills my soul with delight. I know we will have these days again, so many more in the future. And one day I will have the luxury of reflecting on these as a distant memory of our long, beautiful life together.
A Soldier’s Wife

I have been bad…

I promised a letter a day but that promise has faded away
Into days of barely making it through to crash at their ends.
My February has not felt like February, my January not like January.
The months meld into a homogenous block of TIME,
And I have become entombed in that coffinous TIME.
Buried under the Duty of an enforced patriotic life
I stand not for my country tis of thee but for the love of you and me.
Do not doubt that love sustains me despite my lamentations previously.
I just haven’t had enough coffee today to be a deployed soldier’s wife.
P. S.
I am haunted by the months ahead I’ve yet to field alone but not alone.
Never alone.
And neither are you.

I miss…

the press of your lips against mine
in kisses close to the divine.
You make me believe in Heaven.