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EVERY MEMORIAL DAY
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Viet Nam Pieces Here & there they lie, friends, or not, but gone.
I breathed their dusts, inhaled their mists,
shared their heartbeats still pounding in etheric bursts.
An incessant murmur is the constant drone
of my various memories of home and foreign, so alone;
places my infancy had me, where "Soldier-boy" rests;
where infants of Con Thien died at mothers' breasts
(I was thirty there, unwillingly, and so, not alone).
My soul escapes not, by rivets of lead too pinned-down.
My mouth still protests, but my voice, too-far it scatters!
Hurting blows still fall; silently Viet Nam rages on.
They'll NEVER learn! To the powerful, life never matters.
So the Demon-dust is lain,
too many tears to count, or cease;
and the Memorials are too much for War,
and too, too little for Peace!
"So the dust is lain, by too many tears to count, or cease;
and the Memorials are too much for War, not enough for Peace!"
Perhaps this should be placed on a monument of its own.
This is a very beautiful portrayal of your feelings. Well written, well said, greatly felt, and greatly appreciated!
Love,
Lesa