The Airport
Crumpled green uniform
Ribbons edged with dirt
Scuffed shoes, stubbled face
Eyes rimmed red with fatigue
I emerge from the bird's womb
The returning warrior
The family pounces
Hugs, tears
Backslaps, handshakes
Pride overflows
Soldier-son, hero-brother
I stand tall in their eyes
They think me whole
Grateful I am unscraped by war's steel
I wince at their sympathy
All wounds do not pierce the skin
Control! Control!
I must play my role
With precision
My pain will be theirs
Soon enough
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