The Midnight Sky

I can still hear it
and sometimes I swear I’m back there.

I had volunteered for service
and even if the recruiter had sat me down and shown me
the long jagged scar across my thigh
or the way my left knee always jutted out a little too far.

I still would have done it.

Not for the cold nights on guard
where I felt the hope that I would ever get out of this damn place
cloud up and vanish with the rest of my breath.
Not for the letter I kept in my pocket,
the one addressed to mom,
that weighed more than the gear on my back.
Not for the unpleasant silence
that followed each bomb drop
that made me want to scream till my lungs bled
just so I could hear something.
Not for the war but for that one day.

I skipped off the creaky wooden platform,
two years, eighteen days, and nine hours
after I had first stepped foot on that ship.

There was a buzz in the air
that reminded me of home
back when me and my friends would go down to the lake,
park our trucks, and drink a couple beers
past curfew.

I nearly cried
when I saw all the beautiful girls celebrating our return.
Their perfume wafting through the air
like a cool breeze in the middle of a summer day,
breathing renewal into the stale heat.
A brunette caught my attention,
her eyes sifting over the crowd
finally resting on mine,
The kindness in them shook me more
then any ambush
that shot holes into our failing sense of hope.



I had almost forgotten
people
could be
kind.


Suddenly I was walking towards her
like my mind and body had been separated by this one moment,
this pure moment that I hadn’t known I had been waiting for.
She leaned into me,
welcoming my presence like she had known me for years.
I spun her around like she was a ballerina
and this was our rehearsed dance.
Her cheeks were flushed
but a giggle of girlish delight
let me lean in.
She had the softest lips
like rose petals dusted with dew.
and we didn’t part until I felt confetti
sprinkle my cap.
Her green eyes sparkling more than any
midnight sky I had seen on the sea.

I never saw her again after that.

A couple weeks later our picture was in the paper.
I still have that photograph in a dusty trunk with all my medals
not because it was the day I returned to a normal life,
not to remind me of the day I had the guts to kiss a beautiful stranger,
not because it allows for bragging rights,
but because it was the first time
I felt like something was worth fighting for.

I can still see her green eyes in the midnight sky.

 
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