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my soldier

He is twenty-eight years old
the father of two
living so far from
those who love him
in California.

Every day he trains and works
to do his job better and safer.
What is his job, you ask?
He works with bombs.

How did we get here from thirty
something years ago?
I am so glad for him,
so scared for his mother
and so amazed at his dedication
as a citizen.

Wondering if my life trajectory
would have, could have
contributed in any way to
his risk?

Will I ever know?

One thing I know;
he fights for our rights
for all of us – the criminals,
the greedy and the abandoned.

More, he seems to like it.
Is it because he is good at it?
Could he like the lifestyle associated
with the technical, masculine and fraternal
associations?

If I prayed, I would pray for his safety.
What I try to do is to imagine what his interior
and exterior lives are like and hope he is
mostly content and okay with himself.

Oh, and I hope he realizes where his home is.

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