Loss
My loss comes wrapped up in phrases:
… no more funding
… have to let you go.
Yours has no such delicate packaging:
the click and boom of gunshots
that violate the rushing street,
the angry blade that rips through flesh.
I add the experience to my CV,
gain advantage from it,
move on, give thanks.
You are left with unspent years,
photographs of absent brothers,
a restless fury that invigorates,
refuses to give in.