No one killed that night
but all died a little more.
Choked on hell all right;
any strength reserves to draw?

Breath held 'til faces blue;
mosquitoes gorging rancid red.
Heavy hand of silence grew
knowing all are often dead.

Touch of an angel's kiss
on curved metal to kill and maim.
A shake not meant like this
when we see a human slain.

Waiting with one thought;
to kill with cold heart burned
with fear that is not sought.
Good men to killers turned.

Relief and sadness next
as day dawns clear and dim
when from the fear comes rest
until we're sent back in.

And those who live the day
feel the loss of who they are;
not knowing the price they pay
but all bear the inner scar.

All died in that unreal place
and will ever bear the fears.
It's just that some must face
and survive more lurid years.

We each extend our hands
to hold the other's heart;
to help each other stand
up to the hardest part
of living with our past,
loving who we are
and feeling not outcast
with someone there to care.

Always faithful, Semper Fi,
cried both in war and peace
but war won't let us lie
without tears upon our face.

That's as it should ever be;
no smiles or joy in war.
If pain we could not bear
then man could be no more!

Anthony W. Pahl
©January 20, 2000

Page created: Sunday, 28 May 2000

~ Music ~
Wonderful World {Good Morning Vietnam}

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