This is a response to my own challenge: Writing Letters to Home. You should take it up, too, and link to your posts in the comments on the original challenge post page ! I want to read them!
Sometimes I wonder what you think of me.
Sometimes I wonder if you think of me at all.
It’s hard to read your face from across the table or from across the world.
No distance makes it easier;
No space makes it any clearer.
Sometimes I want to smooth the lines from your brow
And make you not think of me at all.
I hardly think about you,
Which frightens me until my chest pinches tight.
I think of all the people who forgot me;
Of all the people soon to forget me.
Then I think of you–and you can’t forget me, right?
Even with oceans between us, you remember.
But what do you remember, I wonder?
The kid you found covered in rags and dirt
That you nursed to be a survivor and a warrior?
Or the person I came to be that had none of that?
I found riches in war
And slaughter and catharsis.
I hope you remember the riches you found, momentarily, in me.
I hope you remember me.
Because I will one day forget you.
I live fully in the fact that I will go first
So that you may write my epithet–
Carve it into my tombstone or the gallows I am hanged from–
“She was the one who lived so that others may die.”
“and I will never forget her”
This is between two characters from a story I am working on in private. A few chapters are here, but they are in no way final. It’s currently undergoing some heavy duty restructuring because I fail, miserably, at keeping my plot straight; I left a plot hole so big a train drove through it.
This is referring to the challenge a posted for myself and to whoever wants to take it up. If you have taken it up, let me know so I can read your ‘letters to home’!