A Lost Lover
A Narrative Poem

Summary
A veteran grapples with the haunting memories of a lost love and the horrors of war, juxtaposing past happiness with present despair.
Abstract
The narrative poem "A Lost Lover" delves into the tormented psyche of a war veteran who reflects on his past relationship with his lover, which was tragically cut short by the war. He contrasts the vivid memories of their shared dreams and intimate moments with his current state of physical and emotional trauma, including the loss of a leg, chronic pain, and the inability to remember recent events. The veteran's recollections are tainted by the brutality he has witnessed and perpetrated during the war, which starkly contrasts with the innocence and peace he once shared with his beloved. Despite his yearning for death as an escape from his suffering, he is forced to confront the lingering presence of his lover's memory and the opportunities for salvation he forfeited by choosing to go to war. The poem is a poignant exploration of the psychological scars left by conflict and the enduring impact of lost love.
Opinions

I reach inside my troubled mind and find a basket of rotten tomatoes. She was my lover before the coming of the great war that left me without a leg and a shell nestled against my spine. We would walk hand in hand along the shore of the great lake and talk about a future that was never to be. I remember her laughter at the simplest of jokes and her tears when I hurt her feelings. But I cannot remember what I had for dinner ten minutes ago. Time has changed the shape of my soul and given me heartburn and gas. I run my fingers through my gray hair and am reminded of the smoothness of her skin and the sparkle in her eyes. She would hold me close in the early morning hours when fears colored my dreams and I would scream for mercy. I loved the smell of her hair and the warmth of her breasts. I wish now to be free of her memory, to escape this life where I am dependent on others for my basic needs and for my survival. I long for death as others long for life. But the dark shadow eludes me. Always one step ahead of me. Never willing to wait. Why does God take the lives of the innocent and ignore the wicked? These hands of mine have tasted the blood of strangers. Have slit the bellies of pregnant women. Have butchered the dying and roasted their flesh. And yet God will not allow me to die. Will not free me from my misery. I am tormented by her memory and the salvation that she offered. If I had only listened when she begged me not to go to war. I was young and foolish with a thirst for glory and fame and a belief in my invincibility. I told her to wait for my victorious return as a conquering hero with a chest full of medals. How naive I was! How ignorant! I reach inside my troubled heart and find a cloak of many colors. She kisses me softly on the lips and for a moment I fall asleep in the comfort of her arms.
Copyright © 2020 by Harley King
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