The Scar

I couldn’t have known that my question
would take you back to a night 20 years
ago, deep in the jungle
when you woke to flashes of light
screams and chaos.
I didn’t know you had looked into another’s eyes
fighting for your life
and in doing so took the life of another.
How could I know that you stared directly into eyes
watching as they turned to glass,
reflecting you in the dark.
mirroring you sinking into an abyss, into sorrow
unimagined, and into a hell
I brought you back to
in a cold windowless bar in Alaska
with a question
about the scar on your arm.

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