Far From Home

The soldiers are training far from home
playing a game of hide and seek
through the thorns and scratches of
the hands that reach for
them on the streets of Iraq,
heartbeats pounding in
fear as mother and fathers
watch from houses with
memories of the sweet smells
of their children before
they became powder, ashes,
stars - an alphabet
of death composed on
bombs, leaving holes in
the streets the brothers of
soldiers cannot escape,
as dawn tickles the edges
of their senses and they
dream of home.