He wakes in the night and leaves without a sound
And sometimes I follow him.
He laces his boots, makes them whisper across wood
And wanders among the trees. He looks up, he looks up,
Always he looks up.
He wonders what They are doing right now, I think,
And for how long we’ll be safe here.

I watch him weave through the undergrowth,
My husband now for several years,
Never do I see him so small.
He is like a child lost in the fields,
as though he cannot find his way home.
I want to tell him that I’m looking for him,
that I won’t leave him out with the waving grain
and the sky for company.

The sun rises yet each morning, and when
it does I’ll be in the kitchen, Jack,
in your kitchen, each morning I’ll be there.
You’ll find me with my feet planted apart
and hands in the sink, I chose this life,
I chose it, I can be strong for you, lean on me.
I promise you, back to back, no whipping wind
can make us fall. Let me
shoulder your burden, my bones will not break.
I’m here, I am here, I am here, Jack.
Look into my eyes, steel and glass.
You can rest with me.