Sometimes I am a foot soldier.
I am deep in the place
where the mountainsides talk.
I go down keeping watch.
I go down begging for the places I know.
I go down without courage,
missing pieces of myself.

When they find me, my body
is like every other body.
Except that I tucked
your picture into my breast pocket.
And you never learn
that you watched over me,
and you never learn
that you kept me safe.

You are at home
with our sycamore trees,
and you never learn
that you saved my life.