Nancy L. Meek

PHONING HOME

He doesn’t need to hear you whine
that the car broke down last night;
he just got shot at by some dude
who does not care if you’re alright.

He doesn’t need to hear today
that the kids have all been bad;
he’s had his hands full rounding up
men who would love to kill their dad.

He doesn’t need to hear from you
why you are taking so long to write
to remind him how much he’s loved,
that he is in your prayers each night.

He doesn’t need to hear your woes,
although he will hang on every word,
sweet music of home to homesick ears,
so close, drowning out a war absurd.