The master returns

He smells of distant lands,
this stranger,
I can feel the sand he trails,
he smells familiar,
but now he also smells of death.

His eyes seem to have seen,
things that I cannot understand.
His hands have done things, I know,
that no man should do to another man.

Who is this man who stands,
Who's strength is a sham, a token,
but I can sense inside him the yawning gulf,
this soldier is strong, but so completely broken.

This is not the same boy who left
with nary a care in his head,
and now he's come back, and all he thinks
is why am I alive and why are they dead.

He seems of distant lands I know
He smells of fire and death I know
There's nothing left of the man before
There's a broken stranger standing at the door.

But through callused hands and teary eyes
I see my master I see the boy
I run to him, to fill with joy
Where, in his heart, I can sense the void.
So he can hold me and let go
Of the dogtags chained around his soul.