Was he a soldier
or spectre?
a vessel in troubled seas?
like a sweet child
without responsibilities,
he appeared to me.
Father,can you absolve me, please
though I will not repent-
nor weep for him,
only for me.
I’ve been brought to my knees
there’s no dignity in this grief.
The wound is deep
though I don’t bleed.
I loved well (and yet still love)
though some would say foolishly.
for the Scarlet W I now wear is
a sign no sympathy be shared.
No matter this,
I wish him well and
never harm
he wore my favor on his arm
the sun forever on him shone
whatever pain best bore alone.
We will one day see eye to eye
where I will as ravens, fly!
to take you to ultima Thule
each day battle, fall,
yet rise again.
My love will be as new even then.
The Spoils of War 