Photo in the Helmet

to all the soldiers

She was in the lonely morning.

She was in the still.

She was in the voice

Beckoning him to

Live through this man-made Hell.

She was in the threats

He’d cut in two with a knife.

She was in the bleeding hearts

Begging him for life.

And every time he took his gun in hand,

She was there too,

To watch his shot fly true.

 

She was in the afterwards.

She was in the will.

She was in moon

Promising him

Another morning to live.

She was in the helmet

He wore on his head.

She was tucked up inside

To stop his life from becoming dead.

And every time he laid his head to sleep,

She was there too,

And he knew he’d make it through.

 

Reviews

[Dressed in Poetry]

I love this. I can just see a soldier carrying a photo of his love around, letting her watch all that he does. It's pretty.