Samantha Newbury

poet

The need to express, in some small way, my gratitude for everything they gave.

Samantha Newbury

poet

Letter to an Unknown Soldier

Dear Unknown…?
Dear Anonymous…?
No…
somehow you’re not either of those;
there are clues,
subtleties,
which belie your anonymity,
and give me something
to relate to.

You’re not one of the youngsters;
your face is older,
tempered…
you’ve seen things
that will shape your nightmares
forever.

It’s winter; you’re wearing
every layer you possess,
including that thick,
handmade scarf,
which doubles
as a grown man’s comforter,
with love, and pride, and longing
knit in every stitch.

The letter’s from home
and it’s been a long time coming,
because you’ve ripped it hungrily
from its envelope
and, later, you’ll tuck it
deep within the layers
for safe-keeping.

So you see,
I do know you;
you could,
so very easily, be
my dad,
my husband,
my brother,
my son…
and therefore
I send you
my love.

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