February 2001
Eyes fixed on nothing
Or futures obliterated,
Futures he can't control.
His face is that of a man at war,
Duty-bound, necessity-strong.
Tersely he grips the hand
Of a young woman with wanting eyes,
Searching his face
As she caresses her belly with concern.
Waiting for the bus
And for words to spare her from silence,
She peruses the distance in his eyes,
Knowing suddenly, sadly,
That if he had to,
He would die for the child he hadn't met -
But only
If he had to.
