War is not hell, it's the coming home
after ---- they don't tell you about
adjusting to the real world, the one
forgotten in the rage of battle ---- what
is normal?  You don't remember .. .
.. . quiet Sunday mornings with your

family.  A warm bed to sleep in.  The
delight of clean clothes.  A shower.
Comfort food.  Walking down streets
without fear of shadows waiting to kill
you .. . all you know is pain.  Even if
you returned without a scratch, the

brain sees, retains the horrors of a
thousand ways to die unfolding
before eyes shock and awed into
silence.  No one wants to hear about
all of that.  And so, you carry on . ..
searching for the peace that eludes.

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (10/18)