A Fragile Peace

The stillness of these countryside mornings belies the tempests raging inside me. Every rustling leaf, every bird's song, it all conspires to awaken the ghosts of my fallen comrades. As I tend to the farmlands, I catch glimpses of the trenches, the bloodstained mud, the cries of the dying. My nights remain plagued by visions of carnage, a cruel reminder of what I'd left behind.

Yet, amidst the darkness, there are flickering embers of hope. The tender gaze of my beloved sister, Sanford, offers a sanctuary from the maelstrom. Her quiet strength sustains me, reminding me why I must hold fast to this fragile peace, no matter how tenuous. We plant seeds together, nurturing the land much as I strive to heal my ravaged spirit.

But the specters won't fade entirely, nor do I wish them to. They drive me, compel me to fulfill the promise I made, to uphold their legacies, to prevent the madness of war from claiming another generation. So, I pen these words, preserving their tales, ensuring the world heeds their warnings. For I shall never let go of the hand they offered in death, guiding me towards a future worth forging.

Perhaps, one day, the nightmares will cease, and the wounds of my heart might scar over. Until then, I'll walk this path, ever vigilant, ever grateful for the love that binds me to the living, determined to honor the dead.