Month: March 2018

I. Vietnam

 

“No church today, colonel.”

Said the man who rowed

Him across the river.

 

An explosion, deafening,

Even to an Infantryman.

Clapboard, pews aflame.

 

Of 4 years of combat,

This is the only story

My grandfather told.

 

One man,

One sentence,

Saved his life.

 

He walked with God

And water buffalo,

And the Vietnamese.

 

He spoke 6 tongues.

And had many names.

Grandfather. Dad. Colonel.

 

 

II. Vietnam, Basic

 

A colonel’s 2^nd deployment…

His daughters dreamed

he’d be killed in action.

 

But the colonel went,

like soldiers before him,

kissed the states goodbye.

 

He refused bad orders,

saving most of his unit,

but he was killed.

 

Grandpa in tears.

Why did I tell him?

I said I was sorry.

 

He said, “We were

in basic together.

I didn’t know.”

 

His friend had died

Half a world away,

Half a century ago.

 

 

III. Japan

 

Grandpa sent his brother

In the Navy, a note,

A 1948 Japanese yen.

 

Ripped in half. Written.

The names of six men,

As lost as the other half.

 

Officers? Operatives?

Men’s faces blur. Time.

Saki-smoke-laughter.

 

No one knows where,

Why it was sent,

or who the men were.

 

Important enough

To write, to save

for 60 years.

 

 

IV. Home

 

These men were.

Missing inaction.

Solid but never still.

 

We cannot pretend

cannot convince me

one doesn’t matter.

 

One sentence.

One man lost.

One man saved.

 

When the border is gone.

And the mission is over,

Enemies, tremors defeated,

 

It’s what they built.

Third culture kids.

Bridges and bonds.

 

I am not a soldier

It’s not my story.

But nor am I separate.