Stealthy is Honor,
See it flit into the shadows deep,
Lingers like a watching ghost,
Murmurs softly, but never speaks.
Soft are its treadfalls,
No imprint does it ever leave,
Chastity and Purity are its sisters,
Honest company it does keep.
Do not mistake it’s vigilance though –
Vigilance’s eyes are like a sieve –
Once ripped apart from it’s abode,
Honor does to it’s sisters cleave.
Mistake yet not for Her loss,
To be alone from woman to leave,
Forget not those forgotten sons,
Whose memory sees fit to silence need.
Honor’s loss is a pain
Too personal to share by breasts that heave,
Gasping for strength and control,
In their many years of grief.
We do not see;
Blinded as we are by peace,
To the wars that rage behind tired eyes,
Locked in an endless, silent scream.
© Ruth P. – 2016
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