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They came home crying tears of joy,
Hugging their parents and loved ones,
And showing off an engagement ring as they
Smiled wide into the snapping cameras

They reluctantly gave interviews about their ordeal,
Their story of survival,
Choosing their words carefully, deliberately, 
to maintain political correctness
And delicate diplomacy:
All they wanted to see was the Ahmed Awa waterfall,
Nothing more, but somehow they wandered
Across the invisible line that separates Kurdish Iraq and Iran,
Then, they were arrested by Iran border patrol and called spies,
Then they were imprisoned for two years.

I saw them shake slightly on TV
Retelling this story over and over,
I wondered:
What were they doing there anyway?
What made them want to venture so close the border
Of an oppressive country that has never like Americans?
Will people ask them that question for the rest of their lives?

During those long days and nights a claustrophobic one room cell
Under the careful eye of an armed Iranian guard:
Did they pray? Consider going on hunger strike?
Become engaged to out of boredom?
Regret taking that hike or curious how well the
Pictures of the waterfall came out

Did they yearn for home and think that 
Will America with her apple pie,
Celebrity obsessed culture,
Widening class gap,
Broken political system,
Bring relief, recovery, solace
To their traumatized psyche?

Maybe dark, dank memories will disappear and 
Fade into a dream as they consider and negotiate
The book deals, movie rights and all consuming question:
Who will play me?

I turn off the TV and  wish them well,
And wonder if there is more to the story
That we will never know.

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