Between love and war ✴❤✴

Between love and war ✴❤✴


Valmy September 19, 1792

My love, today I have arrived for two months in this war, and the longing that I feel torments my senses makes my heart ceaselessly shout your name, Elizabeth.
I am silent with the silence that produces my thought, and at the same time I cry out for your presence.
I feel your heart to mine, a desire that devours my entire heart.
I miss the softness of his kisses, where I dipped my lips slowly, savoring every sensation, indulging me in the delirium of love. I miss your hair, which came down on me like an exuberant veil, when we loved each other intensely, drunk with our passion.

The distance punishes me in such a way, that makes these days seem an eternity.
I no longer know who I am in this inhospitable place, where death hides in every shadow.
My troops are empty, we are out of supplies, and food is getting scarcer.
This is the last bottle of ink I have left, maybe this is the last letter I write to you, my love.
My beloved, every day I read and reread the last letter you sent me.
The perfume you left on the paper, in which the aroma becomes sweeter with each line, feeds my spirit, makes me remember the moments we spent together. I confess to you, that many lines are already blurred, stained by the tears of my tears, that sprout on my face, making me remember every kiss and every hug.
From our love oaths, staring at the stars of a generous sky, which always gave us the brightest stars, and made the sun rise on the horizon like a giant flaming rose.
On the sweet mornings when we woke up with our bodies entwined, sweating with love.
It is these moments, Elizabeth, that makes me kiss these lines, devoutly.
I do not know how long I will endure this pain anymore
And knowing that this pain keeps me alive, gives me hope
The desire to touch you again and have you whole in my arms.
It is this desire that keeps me alive in this impetuous hell.
Remember when we read Dante's poem? And we wondered what the hell would be like
For this is as disturbing as that described in the divine comedy.
If only there were purgatory
The only sound I hear here is the groans of pain and suffering, regrets and despair.
Everyone is dying.
Those who do not die in the trenches, die of the pestilences that are impregnated in this mire.

Between one storm and another, a life is extinguished, along with the coloring of the heavens, which vanishes suddenly, when engulfed by the fury of battles. Where the cantering noise of the cannons mixes with the thunder of thunder, which, as they flicker in the heavens, reflect the silhouette of death in every corner.
Sometimes I cover my ears and close my eyes.
In this sudden instant, I see you, Elizabeth
I can hear your voice and feel the touch of your hands, caressing my face.
I only realize that it is not real, when I open my eyes and return to this limbo, where death cradles the souls in a perpetual cradle.
For the last few days we have had a glimmer of hope, one of our troops from the north has lodged here.
Although hungry and tired, they sing incessantly the song of the revolution.
That beautiful song we heard in Paris. Do you remember, my love?
We were in front of Notre Dame, when the army of Marsellha entered the city, chanting it bravely.
It is said that it was an officer from the Strasbourg unit who wrote it.
At least we feed our tireless spirit with this hymn of hope.

In my eyes there is a curtain of blood, my love
I'm tired of these massacres.
How long will this fight last?
Every day new faces arrive, and the same ones go, in a matter of days
How many more dead?
God be merciful
I'm tired of fighting
I'm so tired, my love.
I hope the messenger can deliver this letter to you.
If you do not receive more news from me, do not feed your hopes any more, my beloved
Be strong, my love.
I know it will be difficult to accept this purpose, but I will not deceive you, Elizabeth
We swore to tell the truth to each other, no matter what the circumstances.
Three days ago I was hit in the chest with a musket shot
I was surprised when I went back to the shelter
A small oversight that now costs me my life.
The bullet is lodged near the heart.
The medicine is coming to an end, and the doctor has to go to the other side, for there are many more wounded than here, among them a general, who urgently needs surgery.
I had managed to stanch the blood, but this morning the wound bleed again.
A fever has been lodged in my body a few hours ago
I think I do not have much time, so I want to dedicate every second writing these notes, my love
I want you to know that the pain I feel in my chest, which hurt me like a cruel dagger, does not compare with the pain of this distance.
The pain of not being able to kiss your lips in my last breath, which for me would be like a thousand suns, illuminating the darkness.
It is with tears in my eyes that I say goodbye, Elizabeth.
But they are tears of joy, knowing that our love will go through the centuries.
When in the last letter you told me that you carried the fruit of our love into your womb, I felt myself the most complete being in the universe. For the first time I understood the meaning of life.
You gave me the most glorious moment a man can have.
I want you to tell him, or her, that I fought and died for our country, and I honored her, to the end.
Say that I was no hero, but that I was not a coward either, that the happiness I felt, knowing that I would be a father, was the noblest feeling I had in my whole life.

My love, that this child, this fruit that now inhabits your essence, somehow, keep me alive in you, and that all the moments that you have together, be of extreme happiness and joys.
Thank you for adding me to such virtue, my love.
I only regret being away from your arms and not feeling the last caress of your chest
You know that at this moment, I do not feel any pain.
If you could hear, you would hear the brave song that now resounds across the plain, like an eagle, boldly casting itself into the sky, illuminated with hope.
The men sang again.
I feel in my heart that we will be victorious.
This sacrifice will not be in vain.
Those who fight for freedom deserve to be crowned with victory.
I am leaving, my beloved, leaving in these phrases my last goodbye.
May this last letter survive, stretching itself in the curtains of time, engraving in its eternal lines, the real proof, of the existence of our love.

I kiss you with my spirit, which is now free, seeking to find the light ...

💙