The others have left and went home.
The trenches are empty, and with bleeding wounds and a parched throat, I see only smoke. And a woman.
The soul that did not leave me behind. She cared. She did not run or hide but came looking for me.
My name? I lost it on the battlefield, right next to my honor.
Cold water is held to my lips, and she lifts me up.
Her voice engraves the word ‘miracle’ into my skin, yet there’s only ringing in my ears.
And as she carries me some place over dirt and over bodies, the determination in her arms breaks me.
I cry over her devotion.
She trips and we fall.
And right then I know I will never leave this field. I think she understands this, too.
We settle and she holds me. I find no words for her or myself.
But there her wisdom lifts the veil. I see.
And an endless universe radiates through me, takes hold and shakes me out of my body, and as if her pained gaze sent me off, I drift away on a silent boat.
I am glad we met, I smile.
She had been a true love.