A War Mother's Sorrow - 6/4/07

What war is it
that you must fight
that’ll take you far from home?
Is it worth a human life?
Will you have to give your own?
“It’s a civil war,” you say at last,
“a war for human rights.”
I hear a bomb in the night blast.
Must you really leave tonight?
“I must, dear mother.” You kiss my cheek
and then you walk away.
I won’t see you for fifty-two weeks,
a year minus a day.
When again I see your face
it’s in a casket laid.
Oh, how I long for your embrace,
but all I get is financial aide.