GOOD

My friend
Is a hero
I can see the reflection
Of his pain
In his eyes
Those sad
And friendly
Blue eyes
That have seen
The end of foes
And of a part
Of himself
He never speaks
About war
But I can read the story
In his
300 meter glance
Melancholic measurement
Of death
And of life
His life
And I think
How he survived
The existential shrapnel
And now he invites me
To his house
And offers me
Food and drink
He has the greatest
Of wounded hearts
He never speaks
Of the battle field
And the ocean
Is a mirror