the path is old and the memory of the old soldier is battered and exhausted
going home after losing the war. to whom? to what?
bloody and hate filled days are now over. finally
but are they? really? life now seems like an endless nightmare
steely insane ghosts inhabit his soul
a young buck deer stands stiff and quivers slightly
the miracles and wonder of youth are burned up in a war
everything feels so ordinary and common place
the tired blood inside him has turned brown and ugly
the way home now seems foreign and long
things have changed
is this still the way home?
is home still home?