Prior to the sunshine of dawn,
Evaporating the misty mildew enveloping the horizon,
How can I tell, if that’s her, and what she knows
What this soul and eyes have experienced,
Leaving steps behind me, tomb shaped
In this mud where I walk,
Something pulls me down, I can feel it
In my gut, a heaviness
Same as the tale I’ve been told,
By Mercer, to keep going
As if this tale, knows me through and through.
I often wonder, whether this tale
Was the reason for his confinement?
In a sanitarium, for his crimes
In Iraq, then Afghanistan
Someone remembered him well,
Came to find him
The squadmates he commanded,
To unnecessary slaughter in Kabul
Now could be seen,
Behind his door glass, grimacing
You could see the sun,
Beginning to cower behind the horizon,
Twas dusk,
His son stood there, or was it
Looking into Mercer’s eyes
You could tell, someone about to die
Mercer yelled, out of fear
But didn’t realize it, how could he
After all he’d been through,
To do so was not heroic
Looking into the phantom’s eyes,
Was like looking into what had come before,
I threw down my backpack,
and sprinted, into her arms
Never did I imagine
I would find her
The joy so intense
It was murderous
She is here,
Ready to begin, a new day
Feels like I’m reborn.