03/27/2026
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Whispered to You Beneath a Rain of Fire
(author's version)
I whispered to you while the sky was burning,
While the world around us moaned and died.
We lay together in the sodden trench,
Where death had no shadow, no name, no pride.
I stroked your trembling neck so gently,
To keep you from falling into despair.
There was no room for panic or fear,
Only trust held silently there.
I told you stories of summer fields,
Of winds that danced in your silky mane.
You once pulled carts — not battles, not guns —
You weren’t meant for war, or pain.
I spoke of the children who brushed your coat,
Of the saddle you wore with pride and grace.
Not of lying broken, torn by shrapnel,
In this cursed, blood-soaked place.
I spoke of apples, and mischief, and shade,
Of sunsets grazing golden land.
Of a future we might never see…
But your name would never leave my hand.
I made a vow, quiet but true:
If I survive, the world will know.
That you were not just hooves and hide —
You were the light in war’s dark glow.
And when the end crept in at last,
I knelt and kissed your weary ear.
“You’re free,” I said — my voice so soft.
And pulled the trigger, shedding my fear.
…And I whispered to you.
Until the final breath.
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