MY FATHER'S TEARS
My Father was one tough man.
A hard life had made him so.
For eighteen years I lived with him
And never saw him cry.
A Navy Vet from WWII,
He had never said a word
Of the pain and death he had witnessed
He held it deep inside.
Then came my time in '69
I enlisted in the Corps.
He pleaded with me not to go
For he knew too well of war.
On my young, deaf ears fell his pleas
For he had served when needed.
America was again at war.
Now this Viet Nam was my duty call.
A young man's war is exciting.
He dreams of adventure, honor, and glory;
Of heroic deeds in far off places
And pretty girls awaiting his return.
But what do young men really know
Of losing friends and killing;
Of severed limbs and bloody death,
The moments of sheer terror?
Of screams of pain that echoes
Throughout the waning years.
A young man knows of none of this
Until it is too late.
So I served my time in Viet Nam.
Counting off every day
And seeing the horror of it all.
I've held it deep inside.
I came home one month early
Surprising both Mom and Dad
And caught off guard he slipped up
His tears he could not hide.
For little had I realized
That while I had been away
Those days that I had counted off
He too had marked the time.
Now we are at war again.
Madmen have attacked.
History repeats they say.
Another son goes forth.
I asked him not to go
For I know too well of war;
But my pleas for him to stay
Fell on his young, deaf ears.
Duty bound is how he feels.
Into the Corps he'll go.
He wants to be in the fight.
But what do young men really know?
He is my youngest son
And until he is safely home
I too will mark the time
And pray dear God, his safe return.
For 18 years he's lived with me
And has never seen me cry.
But when he finally marches home
We will share in my Father's tears.