A SOLDIER REMEMBERS
A Soldier remembers Flower Children flaunting their long hair, singing
songs of peace and love, smoking pipes dancing their dance.
They did not know what it was like to be given a last chance.
He remembers being in a country called Viet Nam,
The only survivor in his platoon as he crawled among the dead and wounded.
Memories of sipping hot chocolate in the field with a friend,
of watching his friend's head get blown off by a sniper.
He feels guilt for being kept alive, while Flower Children in cut off jeans,
and oil perfumed bodies chanted, "Peace Brother."
In unbearable heat he remembers many a restless sleep, as he breathed in the toxic air.
His poncho was his only protection against the beasts and elements.
His M16 machine gun pressed close against his chest while asleep.
There are memories of walking point in the field ahead of the platoon,
knowing if one missed a step mines might explode causing a psychedelic light show of despair.
Back home in America Flower Children with flowers in their hair burned incense,
lived in a maze of psychedelic lights, liberation, sexual freedom,and drugs leading to knowwhere.
The soldier remembers returning home only to be labeled a misfit.
Did Viet Nam really matter to a young man who had to watch life shatter;
in a country where flowers disintegrated, as bombs continued to scatter.