I sewed a yellow ribbon; attached near my heart with a thread of golden hope.
You did not return after your promised year.
So I sewed another yellow bow with stronger thread.
Each month I added more; still you did not come.
I stitched with weakening but fervent trembling fingers, weekly then daily.
I lost my needle and thread.
I have no ribbon left; my headless chicken hands twitch to sew.
My protective, devotional, raiment defines me.
A heap of rags, discarded faded and sodden, pissed on by drunks and dogs.
Frozen in winter and baked in summer; always in the rain.
Beaten by cops and heartless boys.
Spat on, shoved down, kicked and oh-god-worse.
Now, I behave in a careless way.
I mumble to myself; my logic divine.
I confide in no one; my head a cold broth not worth sharing.
I rant at humanity; no war-no war!
I sing to god my requiem for man.
My soul bared, I hide only from myself.
My Vulnerable heart.
Once exposed, and bruised.
Cushioned by yellow ties of promise
attached to each part
My ribbons bind me; holding me together.
Another said lament for those waiting for loved ones who never return from war. I actually wrote this after dreaming of Caledonia whereupon sleeplessness overcame me. Life can be weird. Life always has hope.