Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer

Read history Poems Online

NextLast
 

Josiah Pritchard's Letter to his Wife Part II

(Continued from Part I)

Many of the men are bored and restless. 
Fights break out daily. Many cannot read 
or write. Many cry – yes, cry like lost children 
without mothers or fathers. Others talk of 
wives and children left behind; homes, 
farms and livestock, plowed fields and gardens; 
nights by the hearth: warm, secure, rested from 
a good day’s labor; content with hard won 
prosperity, with bread and meat on the table; 
sons and daughters in good health and spirit, 
God-fearing; tranquil nights and untroubled days; 
merriment and barrels of good ale – contentedness 
like peace itself. They talk of these things until, 
dry of tears, and sleep overtakes them.
	My dearest, it is for these cherished things
we have left our homes, why we all are here,
what we are fighting for, what with all my heart 
and conviction I believe all decent and rational 
men desire, crave – what as yet, in our short 
marriage I have denied you – because without 
liberty no man is free to possess his happiness.
	Love, be strong of heart & courage by what
I tell you now. Should I not survive this war –
by cold, by hunger, by disease, by blood – think
of me as one who fought for cause & purpose, 
who fought as much for his own interests as 
those of others, who believed that liberty, 
justice, & the peaceful life are what all 
men of good heart desire, for themselves 
& for all others; that life is good, nay, 
a blesséd gift, if men only might live it 
to good purpose. For I fear, my love, that 
“Liberty & the pursuit of Happiness,” as 
the Declaration states, shall be a thing 
ever writ in men’s Blood.
	Dearest love, the light from my Candle
flickers wildly, as if knowing its flame 
must soon be eaten by the Darkness that 
presses in on it so hungrily. I must perforce 
bring this Letter to a reluctant end – my fingers
stiffen and my script shall cause you effort. 
I shall, as I have for so long a time now, sleep 
another Night in the uncertainty of what
another Dawn may bring. 
	My sweetest wife, words seem the least
comforting in times as these, & the most 
ardent sentiments are like a fire that 
cannot warm. Yet know this: do not doubt 
my burning love for you, even as I am certain 
yours burns for me as strongly. You stay 
the darkest hours that nightly rush in 
about my heart in these anxious days.
Daily supplicate the Lord for success
in our cause, He, in whose hands our destiny
now rests, is neither blind nor deaf nor slow.
	To my last breath, I will ever remain 
your loving & faithful husband – Josiah.

NextLast

Comments

Please Login to post a comment





A comment has not been posted for this poem. Be the first to comment.



Back