Only a juggernaut could survive
the electrically charged hurt nerves
of a returned diamond wedding ring.
She was unwilling to say yes or no,
stay or go, but her actions implied maybe?
My heart bled all over the sheets
of the midnight sailors at Camp Rainbow.
In order to fall asleep, I counted fireflies,
and healed my wound listening to songs
of crickets, cicadas and katydids.
She stayed up late, dancing and laughing
with staff members who pounded on pots
for drums in the Camp’s kitchen.
Since I loved her enough for both of us,
I figured I’d stick around— absolutely sure,
she was well worth waiting for.
I became resolute as a mountain
that will not, and, cannot be moved.
She caved.
Becoming a juggernaut has many advantages:
In war, I could be counted on to always run
toward the enemy, no matter the risk.
It made me responsible and patient
as a husband, and father raising kids,
and, hardworking and uncomplaining
as a sole breadwinner.
On my tombstone it will read:
Here lies a solid juggernaut
who met his responsibilities.