Homefront

This poem is written about the wife and family of a minuteman in the Revolutionary War, but the emotions of it could easily be applied to the wives and families of our present day military men.

Homefront


Quiet, waiting, restlessness
Silent praying, sleeplessness
Moon on the window, glistening
Dripping, dripping, listening

A gallop on stones, a shout in the night!
A cry of a child, a call to fight.
A candle lit, a boot stamped in place,
A bag of vittles, a tender embrace

“Hurry, hurry”, but we’ll miss you so.
“Here’s your things.” Do you have to go?
A peek at the babe, in sleepful bliss,
The horse is saddled, one last kiss.

“Hush, little child, wipe your tears.
I’m here to hold you, calm your fears.”
Rocking away the hours, creaking,
Knowing the Lord of All is keeping.

The fire crackles, a rooster crows.
The porridge simmers, daylight grows.
So much to do, barnyard chores,
Gather the eggs, sweep the floors.

Muskets thundering in the hills,
Quickens my heartbeat, gives me chills.
“Oh, Lord,” I whisper, “Please,” I pray,
“Please, bring my lover home today.”

“Where is Papa? I want to play ball.”
Oh, when did my firstborn get so tall?
“He’s fighting the British, my little man,
Fighting for freedom the best he can.”

Shadowy clouds hide the light of noon.
“Bless this food. Bring Papa home soon.”
Milk with cheese and toasted bread,
Then down for a nap, my sleepy head.

There’s butter to churn, wool to comb,
Keeping busy ’til he comes home.
“Fetch my shawl. It’s getting cool.”
He stands on tiptoe, upon his stool.

A glance at the window, it’s raining now,
A dash to the barn, to milk the cow.
Carrots, potatoes, and meat in the pot,
More wood in the fire, to make it hot.

A step at the door, the rain blows in.
A shout of joy! A tear begins.
Before the crackling fireplace
His tired smile my fears erase.

Rain on the roof, pattering, singing,
Victory’s won, church bells ringing.
Quiet again, restfulness,
Silent praying, thankfulness.