She was counting the days to the apocalypse
That final day, minutes passed like eons
each moment hurling towards what she hopes was the last
looking forward to the rapture, to a reunion with her firstborn
not seeing it as the end of the world, but a new beginning
She could not see a flag without her heart breaking
At 18, he was so eager to change the world
a superman, in converse tennis shoes
grinning, following his best friend into the fray
taunting the brother who would be left behind
Her world had ended 4 years ago, a ringing doorbell
a story about a convoy, and a roadside bomb
Her oldest son lost to the war on terror
Her youngest, loosing himself to a bottle
that fit too easily into his hand.
They had each coped in differing ways
The day she had become one more
flag draped coffin
one more sobbing mother
one more family coming apart at the seams
and had been unable to turn away
She became over burdened and over bearing
her youngest fighting her every need to nurture
to make up for the time she saw slipping away
like sands in an olive drab hour glass
He retreated, to his darkest places
began emulating the macho façade
he believed his brother represented
And in the drink
drowned any memory that remained
They had fallen apart, and as she clung to wreckage
of what was a family
she became a woman who would await the destruction of the world
that for her had already ended
