Viet Nam Follows Me

Viet Nam follows me

Stepping on my heals

As she punctures my back

With a long syringe

That stings and burns

With memories of young boys

Being blown up

By a kaboom and a flash.

Their arms, and legs,

Torsos, and heads

Scream in unison

Scattering and settling

With the dust.

A pair of green pants

With their legs still inside

Is all that remains.

I  hear their mothers wail

And cry for their dead sons.

Guilt slithers around my throat

Making me choke and cry

For my own dead son.

Is his death the price

The price I must pay

For my inability

To stop the war,

To stop the guns,

To stop the kaboom,

To stop the flash,

To stop the deaths

Of those young boys?

My eyes replay
The killing flash

Over and over

As my gut wrenches,

And twists and turns

The memories of

The bombing,

The killing,

The chilling

Truth:

Death is forever.