One chilly Spring morning while
sitting alone by the banks of the Detroit River
thoughts meander on remote but vivid memories
of a foreign land-
1969 in Khe San
where I lost my soul, dreams and all...
the smell of burning flesh, rubber and gasoline
still reeks in my brain-
burning my nostrils and making my stomach sick
that cannot be eased by any pill.
where the beautiful sunrise at six a.m.
looks like an orange fireball from afar
just like the sight of Napalms explodingfrom a forgotten war...
the ghosts are still there to haunt me
where I can feel the chill in my bones and
the bugs creeping in my skin...
In my solitudeI cry for the friends I lost
and to the comrades who were left behind.
And I solemnly pray for the ones who survived...
For some people who do not understand
The war is long over but for us who were there
It is a never-ending battle against the
Demons in our minds...
International War Veterans' Poetry Archives
Voices in Wartime