The Moon

A rainy august day, twenty years ago,

He’d come home, asked for her hand,

Promised her father, that he'd never leave her side.

He hadn’t wanted to go, held her tight,

But his nation needed him, needed him to fight,

He made her promise, to never allow tears in her eyes.

They made the full moon their anniversary,

Every fortnight, at midnight was their time,

A ritual that kept them together, forever tied.

Barefoot, at night, she looked at the sky,

He was guarding a military camp, but he saw it too,

That one moment, distances were gone, she was by his side.

Blanket draped and nursing a coffee, she waited at the porch

For the man she loyally and eternally loved,

Had a picture of him, that she would hold close to her heart,

She’d feel him tickle her, make her laugh so hard,

His voice would whisper to her, as his hands caressed her hair,

He'd kiss her forehead and she'd sleep in the arms of a man who wasn't there.

There was blood on his shoes, bodies by his side,

Sometimes when it became too much, he'd sob quietly into the night,

He wanted to be in her arms, feel her warmth again,

He wanted to escape the hate around him and love her once more,

When he couldn't sleep, when nightmares invaded his dreams,

He’d take out her prized ribbon; he’d sleep imagining that she was near.

The moon still gives them hope, something for the future,

Every fortnight, they look toward the mediator of their love,

Cool white rays of light; they remove the darkness of their night.

- Micah

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