Because you will always be just back from the war.
There are secrets that can't be told
no matter how much you tell them:
how vision collapses into the eyes of the dead
with an inaudible thud that reverberates
through your sleeping and waking;
how sleeping and waking are not linear
or cyclical, but spiral in the gravity well
of collapse; how your heart says, "thud.
thud. thud."; how you suddenly understood one
day (one hour/ one moment/ for the rest of your life)
that we bury the dead to keep them secret.
Sometimes you want to show people
so that they will stop talking about laundry
and gas prices
and celebrities.
More often you just envy them.
More often you just listen to your heart thud
and wonder if there's anything worth doing,
and wonder if you'll have time.