There are so many who just want to come home. They are alive.
There are so many mothers and brothers who think they’re dead. They’re not. They are alive.
There are so many that have given up the hope of wrapping their arms around daughters and nieces and granddaughters.
There are so many who just want to come home. They are alive. And they want to come home.
They are invisible to so many yet in full view.
There are those that are dead and their voices carry beyond their bones, buried but heard, praying across the sand, plains and winds. They, too, want to come home.
I see you. You, too, I will bring home.