Your world was blown right apart on a night of sickening death. You went running for your life and never went home again. I spend sleepless nights as my head swims worrying about you. You work the night shift so you won’t be alone. I am adept at cold. You have travelled so far from home. Sorrow has followed every step of the way. You’re caught between this life and the one left behind. I see it’s burning you inside like some exploding sun. Your mind constantly returns to a place that’s not so fucking cold, but on fire with war. You’re starting over from scratch, sending your money home. You’re working as hard as you can while life hangs in the air. I see distant lights up ahead but I’m worrying about you. It’s all taking its toll and you can’t concentrate. You are being crushed by the world. I have gotten lucky so far. We sit at the end of this night dialing. An answer finally reached through a long distance line. News of threatening night letters. Stones tossed over the fence. Your loved ones taunted by murderers. Tell them it’s three years that they’ll have to wait as their whole world implodes.