By Chris Moon
Cold, rolled black steel rests against my chest.
Dust hides in the minute corners
Glints of shiny polished metal reflect what light there is.
It is heavy draped over my shoulders
It is my best friend.
My shadow that is always with me
My dinner date, my shower mate.
I lay in bed at night praying for sleep to come easy
It lays next to me, always watchful
I can smell the gun powder and cleaner, pungent
I doze off, but my ticked home never blinks.
This instrument of war,
My savior, my protector.
If only it could speak to tell my story.
One day I will be gone, but it will live on.
It will be there to save the life of another “Joe.”
Until then, rest easy my friend.
You are now my brother’s keeper.