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A Vietnam Trilogy
Friends in Hell
I remember you well, my friends
My comrades-in-arms in Hell;
Through quirks of fate came to different ends. . .
In times I remember so well.
You died in my arms, a broken man,
Life ripped asunder by a shell;
Or died you suddenly as a direct his can. . .
As did so often in our war-torn Hell.
I heard your screams, I saw your face. . .
The mangled body or severed hand;
I thanked God then t'was not I in your place,
When the Hell of war visited the land.
The Wall
Etched in gold upon black stone,
An endless list of names upon The Wall
Here a cry, a sob, or groan. . .
Remembering one name among them all.
All quiet now, on this day so wet,
Remembering those dead not so long ago. . .
Amid war's Hell, their maker met. . .
Their promising lives cut short and low.
All heroes now, every race and creed,
These soldiers who answered the call;
Who gave their lives in times of need,
Remembered, but names upon The Wall.
Whither They
Thou troublest my soul, oh bittersweet memory . . .
Of friends and faces ne'er more will be;
The people and places, the joys we shared;
The bonds and friendships for whom we cared.
Their youthful voices, stilled for years . . .
Haunt me with their anguished cry;
A harmony ringing in my ears:
"Oh God!!! I didn't want to die!"
Slowly time passes; year by year, day by day . . .
The memories are fresh and won't fade away.
The question arises, taunting 'til I cry:
"Whither they, Dear Lord, and not I?"
- David W.
Brewer, Ph.D.
Medical Education |