“15000 Miles Between Heartbeats”
***
You missed my ship—
I shout into the distance,
half anger, half ache.
I’m already on my way,
and you don’t even know it.
The horn fades
into a thinning shore,
and I carry myself
fifteen hundred miles
toward something
I cannot yet name.
Tomorrow—
war.
Battles waiting
just beyond sleep.
Silence stretches wide,
too wide
for men meant to fill it.
My thoughts drift—
home,
where hearts sit warm
and untouched.
But here we stand,
shoulder to shoulder,
steady…
or pretending to be.
Night breaks open—
fire in the sky,
thunder tearing through bone.
Fear climbs quietly,
finding every gap
we try to seal.
Bravery—
a mask we wear well.
Because the truth?
The horror is loud,
sharp,
unforgettable.
Then morning comes—
as if nothing happened.
The storm loosens its grip,
and the sea remembers
how to breathe again.
Laughter returns,
fragile at first,
like it’s asking permission.
Still—
fifteen thousand miles from home,
and somehow
love reaches us.
I sail back—
toward familiar shores,
toward names I know.
But something stays behind.
Grief travels with me,
quiet,
unpacked.
Too many
do not return.
Their journey ends
where ours continues.
And maybe—
that is their peace.
Rows of coffins.
Flags draped low.
A bugle cries
soft enough
to break you.
And the questions—
they don’t leave.
What did they give?
What did they lose?
And who decides
what it was worth?
I still ask that question—
Old photos in my hands,
faces that never made it home.
And still…
I ask—why?
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 5:09 AM UTC
“15000 Miles Between Heartbeats”
***
You missed my ship—
I shout into the distance,
half anger, half ache.
I’m already on my way,
and you don’t even know it.
The horn fades
into a thinning shore,
and I carry myself
fifteen hundred miles
toward something
I cannot yet name.
Tomorrow—
war.
Battles waiting
just beyond sleep.
Silence stretches wide,
too wide
for men meant to fill it.
My thoughts drift—
home,
where hearts sit warm
and untouched.
But here we stand,
shoulder to shoulder,
steady…
or pretending to be.
Night breaks open—
fire in the sky,
thunder tearing through bone.
Fear climbs quietly,
finding every gap
we try to seal.
Bravery—
a mask we wear well.
Because the truth?
The horror is loud,
sharp,
unforgettable.
Then morning comes—
as if nothing happened.
The storm loosens its grip,
and the sea remembers
how to breathe again.
Laughter returns,
fragile at first,
like it’s asking permission.
Still—
fifteen thousand miles from home,
and somehow
love reaches us.
I sail back—
toward familiar shores,
toward names I know.
But something stays behind.
Grief travels with me,
quiet,
unpacked.
Too many
do not return.
Their journey ends
where ours continues.
And maybe—
that is their peace.
Rows of coffins.
Flags draped low.
A bugle cries
soft enough
to break you.
And the questions—
they don’t leave.
What did they give?
What did they lose?
And who decides
what it was worth?
I still ask that question—
Old photos in my hands,
faces that never made it home.
And still…
I ask—why?
I wrote this poem as a personal act of remembrance for those who never made it home from the Falklands conflict. It reflects the quiet courage of young soldiers, the love they left behind, and the weight carried by those who returned. Through memory, loss, and unanswered questions, it honours their sacrifice—and ensures they are never forgotten.
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