Dear Sammy
By Rachel Hoge
We’re your biggest supporters.
No, really.
While the other Philistines struck
your body and wept for
the temple—
or rather, the smoky ash
that remains
we were holding signs
campaigning for resurrection
knowing full well that you were innocent
before you met her.
Can you believe that
they tore your clothes
and slit your skin
like you were somehow to blame?
I’m telling you now
we would’ve stayed there all night
standing in the ashes, keeping watch.
But then your family came to bury you
inside that temple in Zorah.
Your dad said it was nice—
your god must have some clout
in life after death.
After that, we went home
to light a candle on the mantle.
We said a prayer to Dagon for you
just in case Yahweh wasn’t happy—
which you told us once at dinner
was often the case.
That night we told stories
like that time you fought lions
with your bare hands
or killed that army
with just a donkey bone.
Delilah cried through every one—
especially when she told us
about the night she
held the knife
to your acersecomic head
and made it naked and bald.
All those nights the four of us
sat around the fire
imagining your lives
with marriage and sons.
Delilah says they were for nothing,
but we think that she’s wrong.
We’ll write you again soon.
Miss you, kid,
D’s Mom and Dad
This is amazing Rach, keep em coming!