That house I daily look upon—
that hill above
that hill below;
moments away till life begins
the hearth and home
have burned me out,
almost,
outside awaits the show.

A soldier a long way would go
through blood and tears and lots of snow;
nothing will wait
for him to lament
a friend he could not bury
a day ago—
the cause is hungry,
the cause’s in a hurry;
a wolf bares not to wait,
the sharpened teeth are ready
to devour yet another one,
a patriot fighting for god and home—
foolish causes believed by the true
to keep the wolves in the valley full.

I am that soldier here at home;
I am a woman devoured day by day
to please them all, but not myself—
to stay a lamb and die at home
or live a wolf and die alone?
A domestic woman mourned
or a wild woman unforgotten?

November 20, 2015

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