You never read aloud much.
Only on nights when monsters
haunted my dreams
did you rush to my aid,
a knight in flannel pajamas
sent to slay the evil creatures
hiding under my bed.
You told stories of wizards
and stony castles built in the clouds.
Your voice needled into my dreams
and cradled me to sleep.
Then you wrapped me up—
a little woolen burrito—
a force field against bad thoughts.
I woke up one morning
and you were gone.
Off to that far land
to be someone else’s knight for a while.
For six long months
I battled my own demons.
I became a soldier—
just like you.
***
This poem is dedicated to my dad, and to all of the other soldiers who came home safely, and to all of those who did not.
