I am the wounded son
Of a wounded father
Rips and tears
To body and soul...
Was the gift
he brought home...
My child's eye, soaked up
The outer wounds he carried
My child's heart, inhaled
The inner wounds he had hidden
"War is stupid" he would say
"Nobody wins" he would proclaim
Yet...
When my time came
He wanted me to go
But...
I had seen his wounds
And I had taken his pain...
Into my heart
The gift he had given me
Became something unexpected
The gift he had given me
Became the seed of something else
The gift he had given me
Began to grow...
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