I cross the city,
familiar and comfortable.
I give a visitor advice,
his face is pale.
He has stories to tell,
where the news runs dry.
But I’m content,
better than going away.
I go back inside,
afraid and hesitant,
go up to the room,
instead of the roof – unobstructed view
jam full of tat
that seemed vital,
before leaving, a long time ago,
war makes decisions easy.
Now it has no value,
things that nobody needs,
if only they could return
that brought us freedom.