When you get home,
You will not have to make any decisions
Because no-one will need saving –
At least, those who do will not rely on you,
Because your job will be done.
You have done your part
To try and fill that black hole of need,
And we will not let you spend all of yourself
On an impossible and eternal task –
You are too valuable.
We love you too much.
When you get home,
We will sit you down
Somewhere warm and comfortable
After a long hot shower or a bath,
In clean pajamas
And dry socks,
With a cup of tea
(Or a little something stronger).
If you need to vent, vent.
We will listen without interruption
And not insert ourselves into the narrative.
If you like, we can remember your story,
So that if you want to tell it
(Shout a warning)
Cassandra’s message will amplify
In many voices.
But if you need silence,
To sit, say nothing, and just be,
We can do that too.
I’ll hold you.
You can take off the mask,
Stop pretending not to be scared,
Aghast, bewildered, exhausted,
Shattered –
Because the horror you survived
Is not bearable.
It is insane.
Whatever “crazy” way you deal
Isn’t crazy,
But a rational response to an irrational world.
Let it out. You are not alone.
I don’t need anything.
I don’t need you to be or do anything.
I am simply here with you.
Although I have not seen what you have seen,
I lived through something similar;
We have both borne witness.
So there is no need to apologise.
You owe me nothing –
You owe them still less.
When you get home
You're welcome to sit with me,
Or let me manage the daily tasks
While you seek solitude.
You have done everything and more.
No individual can carry the world –
Atlas is a myth for a reason.
We are family of a sorts,
Bound by more than blood.
Together, we are strong.
Written to a friend on the front lines
