airyckq
11-16-2007, 08:43 AM
This is for my dad:
"Vietnam Dreams"
I wonder if my father
ever dreams Vietnam dreams
He was a young man then
who looked much
like I do now
He was a Marine in '68
a camouflaged soldier
with M16 and radio pack
and fresh eyes
a dense forest patroller
in hazy foreign jungles
far removed from the
tight urban neighborhoods
whose darkness meant
peace and quiet
back home
not foreboding danger
from unknown viny depths
(no friendly garages
burger stands
or theatres
in this stifling
humidity)
He walked wet
jungle glistening
listening to the foreign sounds
of continuous rain
strange birds calling
and for foreign strangers
crouching wet waiting
quiet as the fronds
and the mosquitoes
walking in the middle
of the patrol line
he moves slowly through
the only beam
of thick warm sunlight visible
to every soldier on the path
and his mind wanders
into a dream of my mother
her letters
the picture
she writes and says
Love to get him through
he smiles to himself
thinks back through time
through thousands of miles
through yesterday
and he is with her
for one instant
(his boots sinking into
soft thick earth)
he is in line again
he is moving still
the clouds half close
the whole of the sky
the noon sun dismal
and wet yelling yellow
faint jungle sounds
far off cracks
rain slapping leaves
coughs from somewhere
ahead in line
the warm apparition behind
it feels good for a moment
thinking
of security
of home
of dreams
of brotherhood
and protection
thoughts of returning
outweigh thoughts of danger
for just a moment
WHACKWHACKWHACK!
POPPOP! POPPOPPOP! POPPOP!
leaves sliced fall to ground
dirt kicking up in eyes
the jerking dance of
dialed in soldiers
in front and behind
moving awkward quick
seizing twirling deaths and
fall to ground
(bursts of sun through the clouds!
the sun has come out!
the peacemaker!
the fear killer!)
POPPOPPOP! POP! POP!
CRACK! CRACKCRACK!
he's never seen a tree trunk
burst like that before
nor blood soak
into mud
POPPOPPOPPOP! CRACK!
WHACKWHACK! POPPOP!
POPPOPPOP! POP! CRACK!
shouts screams yells
fight and flight and fire
(the sunbeams sit
transcendent in quiet gloom
razor shafts from jungle canopy)
my father as a Marine reacts
empties rounds into thickest
dangers unseen unseeing
killing for the right to live
POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!
(a cacophony of sound
envelops stillborn dreams)
he sits and waits for something
remembers his mother
most of all
through the shear terror
of what is happening
there is no training for a reality like this
the emptiest minutes pass
quite for a moment
a perfect silence settles
not even the jungle
has a word to say
so full of life and
frightening death
he waits
no sound
no breathing from
a friend in front
no talking from
a friend behind
my father sees
collecting pools of sadness
at their feet
the dark rich red
of unborn generations
a vengeful calm reacts
throughout the jungle
a bird begins singing
he thinks of home
he thinks of his mother
of my mother
in the deadliest silence
he will ever know
my father dreams of homes
(the rain and mosquitoes
buzz his ears
and the jungle
returns in a haze)
"Vietnam Dreams"
I wonder if my father
ever dreams Vietnam dreams
He was a young man then
who looked much
like I do now
He was a Marine in '68
a camouflaged soldier
with M16 and radio pack
and fresh eyes
a dense forest patroller
in hazy foreign jungles
far removed from the
tight urban neighborhoods
whose darkness meant
peace and quiet
back home
not foreboding danger
from unknown viny depths
(no friendly garages
burger stands
or theatres
in this stifling
humidity)
He walked wet
jungle glistening
listening to the foreign sounds
of continuous rain
strange birds calling
and for foreign strangers
crouching wet waiting
quiet as the fronds
and the mosquitoes
walking in the middle
of the patrol line
he moves slowly through
the only beam
of thick warm sunlight visible
to every soldier on the path
and his mind wanders
into a dream of my mother
her letters
the picture
she writes and says
Love to get him through
he smiles to himself
thinks back through time
through thousands of miles
through yesterday
and he is with her
for one instant
(his boots sinking into
soft thick earth)
he is in line again
he is moving still
the clouds half close
the whole of the sky
the noon sun dismal
and wet yelling yellow
faint jungle sounds
far off cracks
rain slapping leaves
coughs from somewhere
ahead in line
the warm apparition behind
it feels good for a moment
thinking
of security
of home
of dreams
of brotherhood
and protection
thoughts of returning
outweigh thoughts of danger
for just a moment
WHACKWHACKWHACK!
POPPOP! POPPOPPOP! POPPOP!
leaves sliced fall to ground
dirt kicking up in eyes
the jerking dance of
dialed in soldiers
in front and behind
moving awkward quick
seizing twirling deaths and
fall to ground
(bursts of sun through the clouds!
the sun has come out!
the peacemaker!
the fear killer!)
POPPOPPOP! POP! POP!
CRACK! CRACKCRACK!
he's never seen a tree trunk
burst like that before
nor blood soak
into mud
POPPOPPOPPOP! CRACK!
WHACKWHACK! POPPOP!
POPPOPPOP! POP! CRACK!
shouts screams yells
fight and flight and fire
(the sunbeams sit
transcendent in quiet gloom
razor shafts from jungle canopy)
my father as a Marine reacts
empties rounds into thickest
dangers unseen unseeing
killing for the right to live
POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!
(a cacophony of sound
envelops stillborn dreams)
he sits and waits for something
remembers his mother
most of all
through the shear terror
of what is happening
there is no training for a reality like this
the emptiest minutes pass
quite for a moment
a perfect silence settles
not even the jungle
has a word to say
so full of life and
frightening death
he waits
no sound
no breathing from
a friend in front
no talking from
a friend behind
my father sees
collecting pools of sadness
at their feet
the dark rich red
of unborn generations
a vengeful calm reacts
throughout the jungle
a bird begins singing
he thinks of home
he thinks of his mother
of my mother
in the deadliest silence
he will ever know
my father dreams of homes
(the rain and mosquitoes
buzz his ears
and the jungle
returns in a haze)