Before, During, After
He can’t look at me any more.
I’ve took hundreds of photos of him before
now he turns away from my lens
but that’s all I have to worry about
– not living with him or loving him –
watching him suffer for more than a few shots a second
I think about what he saw,
what he did, or more.
Does he have to go back
face the horrors or worse?
Will there be even less to see in him then?
He’s already lost the colour in his eyes.
He can’t bear to look at me any more,
can’t bear to show me what he saw.
He can’t be convinced he’s clean
still covered in sand and sun.
I simply record the thoughts he hides
from his wife, his family and life
then he leaves.
I won’t see him again.