I know I'm not the only one whose heart is beating in their throat.
Breath is stuck in their lungs.
Whose pulse is crying, "home, home, home..."
Whose fear is curdling in their gut.
I'm afraid of hoping-
to see their faces again,
In their family's arms.
I'm afraid of the cost,
but only God knows who will live and who will die.
I'm afraid of games they play,
and the lies they tell,
and the waiting.
Could this be it?
Will they all come home?
Will this really end?
I'm asking unanswerable questions to myself,
Waiting for answers that have taken eternity-
still waiting.
I'm angry at the date,
and all the days that have passed.
They make no sense to me,
the immensity of solving twisted puzzles, and mazes, and tunnels.
The looking and not finding,
the demands unanswered.
The cruelty and the unknowing,
Is this it?
Breathing.
Hoping.
Waiting.
Is this it?

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