Four months, one week
and three days.
I wonder, if hes counting?
I wonder, if I should ask?
The news say today
there were no attacks.
He sounded good on the phone:
all small talk, laughter and an
I love you at the end.
I send something like a prayer
In the general direction of up above
Pleaseplease what ?
Please let him be safe,
Be back soon, let him not fear
Please, I just want him near.
Sometimes I ask for patience,
Im bad at this, you see.
I worry way too much,
and let it show, and I have come
to hate all phones with a vengeance.
Its really not that strange,
you can never
ask what you really need
or say enough
or ever really know
if you cannot see his face.
I ask for patience,
I beg for him to be alright
alone at night,
curled in on myself under a blanket,
in the idle darkness,
Between logicing myself into
some sort of calm
And right after I give up and
send one more entreaty upwards.
