Vintage Words


Once a nappy head

beneath the barber's

blades, a mass 

of energy in a run

in the park, now

a memory of late

night chats with

your brothers, dad,

or on the front porch 

stairs with ma.


After Nam, we thought 

you home and safe 

until sister knocked 

and getting no reply

walked in to find

you swinging alone.


Unable, when alive, to tell

of your terrors, unable

dead to share the hell

your mind saw.  We recall

the uniformed lad in a

foreign place proud

to legally carry a gun. 






Author's Notes/Comments: 

Nam was hell too.

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Sandy11's picture

Beautifully written. If only

Beautifully written. If only we could know when our loved ones are struggling inside. 

allets's picture

We Wear Our Masks

and it is sometimes impossible to share. To share is so important. Thanks for the read and thought provoking comment. ~ Lady A ~



AkulaTHEPoet's picture

Good stuff.

As always, an enjoyable read, thank you for sharing. :)

Спасибо! Я благодарю!

allets's picture

To Share

is the poet's realm and I am glad to have shared. ~ Lady A ~