The Big Parade

I've just come back from the war.I'm angry and tired and bored.Scarred by the things that I saw --Still don't feel like I'm home.Don't want to go back, don't want to stay.I'm still waiting for the big parade.Just before dawn --doesn't feel like last fall...feels like a friend I've lost touch with,who I'd hoped wouldn't call --blankets and clothes and pictures of wives,the glow of the burningthey saw from the sky...When I woke up, all swaddled in white,I wantde my Mother,wanted her to tell me why I was alive.I'd write every night, just before bed.For a while there I stopped.Did you think I was dead?The truth of it is, I was afraid.Scared to come back, I wanted to stay.I'm still waiting for the big parade.