Who returned from Baghdad on that early morning flight....
a husband or a daughter or the fear that owns the night...
and who would know what happenned too the person that you knew...
a bomb a smell a noise perfume the horror of the view..
the laugh is tight the smiles there..
a room too bright amidst the glare...
but then an unfamiliar glance...
an unpredicted circumstance...
and once again the stare..
who returned from Baghdad much anticipated flight...
a lover or a mother or an animal in fright...
and will they want to tell us of the terror that they saw..