poetryrepairs 15,04:043

ABIGAIL B. CALKIN Soul of my Soldier
:Goodbye
: Hearing
: The Quaker and the Sergeant

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ABIGAIL B. CALKIN
Goodbye 

When the troops went off to Iraq, Our hearts filled with thoughts of farewells. We treasured our nugget of love even more, Nurtured it, held it, examined it, Kept it in the woven basket by the bed, Sang Hallelujahs to the embrace of sleep, Ave Marias to the morning light as younger Wives, husbands, parents, and children smiled as if all were well.

poetryrepairs #211 15,04:043






Hearing

The phone rings. The voice, belonging to the one I love so much, is flat. His attempts to sound normal donít work. He is depressed Listenó Hear the lack of cadence? Tears slow-cooked all day boil down my cheeks as his confusion and pain churn. I want to hold him in safe embrace. I tell him but distance intrudes. I cannot wrap him in my arms. I donít tell him I was sick last night and this morning. This phone call is not about me.

poetryrepairs #211 15,04:043






The Quaker and the Sergeant

I was raised a gentle life Knew not a soldier till I met my own. Stood before his conflicted, raging soul. Naked and sweetly unaware, He calmed against my skin.

poetryrepairs #211 15,04:043







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