My Cousin

I get inspired by random things. I was thinking about my cousin today (September 11 for me because I haven't gone to bed yet). He’s in the army and currently in Iraq for his third or fourth time. Although I guess I should put up a disclaimer and say that he’s not like the person in the poem. Anyway, here’s the poem:

It’s About You

She knows you never came back
You’re lost in a foreign place
Maybe that’s why you look forward to returning there,
Maybe you realize you left something behind.

She can tell you exactly what you left
It’s the part of you that could look at her and move her heart,
The part that knew how to enjoy life,
The part that wasn’t so cynical.

She spends hours listening to you tell stories
But you never mention the images you can’t forget,
The ones that visit your dreams at night,
The ones that won’t let you be at peace.

She hears the changes in your voice
Subtle shifts in tone that make you seem afflicted,
Tortured by what you’ve seen,
Tortured by what you’ve done.

She wants to help you but she doesn’t know how
Your wounds need treatment she can’t provide
Though she would if she was able,
Though she would if you let her.


Status: Realizing I didn’t say anything about 9/11. Maybe I should write a new poem about it for tomorrow or something.