The child sits
playing peacefully
Suddenly it
comes to me
That this child
has known no other life
Save war, and
suffering, and spite,
Distinctly I can
hear the flutter
Of incoming
mortars, and I shudder
For the child is
far beyond my reach
I shout, I
scream, I beseech
Please someone
take that child
From harms
reach,
I hear the
cries, the screams and
See the pain;
yet, I’m pinned down
And cannot gain,
even an inch
Closer to the
child, helplessly
I watch as the
child dies,
Alas, it’s too
late
I watch in
horror as the child disintegrates
The impacting
mortar sounds as thunder
The poor child
is torn asunder,
I let my eyes
drop to my feet
Silently I begin
to weep
I curse this
savage land
For at my feet
lies the child’s hand
So tiny and
fragile, a grisly scene
I make myself
say, "it’s all a dream,"
The screech, a
mortal scream
I hear
As the mother
runs to her child
So dear,
The battle rages
yet
No sounds I hear
As I bow my head
and peer,
There is no hope
And I am torn
As the mother
kneels softly keening
Grieving,
aching, yet not believing
This bloody and
broken form
Can be her
child, her blood, her seed,
She looks into
the vacant eyes
Forlorn,
Her child
Another tragedy
of war,
This child’s
days of play and laughter over
I use my Poncho
to cover
This tiny
lifeless being
I turn away
without seeing
Knowing nothing
And not
believing,
I felt nothing
at the time
For I had
blocked it out
Left it behind,
I again face the
battle at hand
For that’s all
there is
In this ravaged
land,
I shut it down
and walk away,
Never knowing
I’d grieve this
day
Forever,
At the time, I
had no regret
I walked away to
forget
All these years
and yet
If I close my
eyes
And try to rest
I’ll never leave
this scene
At best,
I awake at night
With tears
streaming
For then I hear
That poor child
screaming,
Down the years
I’ve borne this
dream
Of horror, and
death
It never seems
To darken nor
diminish
And will be with
me,
Until my life is
finished,
I weep still
And weigh the
cost,
Vietnam isn’t
worth
Even one child
lost.
2005
- 2009 MWSA