Dirge For November
Written by Searrah Bucci
I stand here,
Upon the grave of my beloved,
Her bones laid to rest.
Soft flesh,
Pale skin rotting,
I can still remember her sweet talcum smell,
Now buried deep within the earth.
My darling,
My duty to my country
Cannot repent for your long nights alone
And the harsh, hungry winters.
Heartbreak and hunger were your untimely end.
Long years of marching
Have amounted to nothing
But solemn emptiness to come home to.
You and the children are dead, grown, or gone.
My sin lies in leaving you,
My sin lies in living on.
The bitter wind freezes my tears,
Lashing out at my faded uniform
Trying to rip the blood stains from the tattered fabric.
I've become accustomed to the cold.
My heart has been frozen for so long without you,
My beloved.
My eyes grow heavy.
Horrific dreams have plagued me for too long.
I lay myself to sleep on this cold ground,
Between you and my youngest sons.
Closing my eyes,
The smell of powder and sound of musket-fire surrounds me.
Amidst the screams,
Your beautiful voice...calling me home.
Yes, my darling, I too shall be gone by morning.
Oh sweet November,
Bide your time,
December's razored wind comes creeping.
Here I lie, amidst the gale,
For my lost love,
Weeping...

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