It has hung in my throat all day
The image of you staring out the window
dreaming of greener pastures.
Pastures not filled with burning people.
It has hung in the back of my throat all day
the tears you shed
for the wish to be simple
for the wish to live a life not filled with violence.
To live a life whose stories you can tell the neighbors.
What absolution is there for us
who sent you out?
Only to return and beg for mercy
for an end to the nightmares,
for the care we cannot give.
Only the lucky survive this passage
and they are forever changed.
September 7, 2011