The Return

Returning
From a war
That seemed to last
A thousand years
And there is nothing left
Nothing left but debris
And then of course
There is me

Beaten
And battle-scarred
With no identity
And my destiny
Has been stolen from me
Grounded once more
And this house
That stands before me

A picture
Of neglect and desolation
A neglected garden
With its old, gnarled oak
Colonised by rats
Their imperial paradise
Our very own
Occupying army

This house
Is empty and there
Is no one here to greet me
Only the rats
In their newly formed colony
Waging a miniature war
Of their own.