Prisoner of War

The best part of my day is dawn.
I feel the least pain then; but then I hear footfalls,
“Clung clung clung” down the hallway.
My pain approaches; the commencement of terror.
The gargantuan key fits into the lock, turns and the heavy door opens.
He enters; a small bespectacled man who represents Lucifer,
The perfect embodiment of my personal hell
I pretend to be asleep as he unzips his dragon
And spits his sour fire on me
My day as a prisoner of war has just begun.

I think of why they keep me alive,
What do they want from me?
They have beaten me, drugged me, abused me,
They have tortured all information out of me,
Humiliated me,
What else dear Lord, could they want?
Smite me now God!

I think of my life,
I think of the home I left behind,
The son whose school fees prompted me to board the plane to this country,
The daughter who was so proud of his “jeshi” dad,
Do they think of me as much as I think of them?
Do they miss me?
Do they care?

I convince myself that it doesn’t matter.
That my love and care for them is all that matters.
I think of their mother,
And the possibility that a brother in arms is around for her
Swings by the house to check up on my family,
And assure her that the army is doing all it can to find me.
I try not to think about the extent of care that the brother in arms is extending to my family,
To my wife,
I can’t think like that.
I can’t torture myself more than my captors torture me.

Is the army doing everything to find me?
Is my country aware of my plight?
Was this war really necessary?
I want to go home.
I don’t care how; I don’t care what I’ll find there,
But Lord I pray, just get me out of here.
I can’t die here.
I have to see my family again,
I have to go home,
Gather everyone in my emaciated arms,
And scream “I love you guys” from the deepest part of my heart.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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