Haunted Homecoming

The airline door slid open slow and there he stood at last. A shadow where

our son should be, a future from the past. He wore the

greens, the sharp salute, the medals on his chest. But the face

beneath the razor cut was utterly possessed. He kissed his mother's fragile cheek,

he shook his father's hand, and spoke the words, "I'm home.

I'm safe," but stood in no man's land. He decorated every room.

The cake was sweet and bright. But the flicker in his eyes was gone,

swallowed by the fight. Oh, the thousand-yard stare across our kitchen