I just heard about them,
the dogs they assign to veterans
whose hands used to twitch so much
they couldn’t tie their shoes.
But now those hands
bury their memories
in the warm quiet
of a gentle dog.
And what made me cry
wasn’t what the soldier
had seen and done
or the way he grits his mind
just to get out of bed.
Or how he could breathe again,
permitting himself to believe
his dog was watching his back,
keeping him safe.
What made me cry
was how his dog was trained,
taught to sense when his friend is angry,
to whimper
and not stop
until he feels those hands
on his back,
petting him slowly,
the two of them
soothing
each other.