A poem "Febo From Nam"
Green blades of grass
reach up to the sky.
No one told Febo
it was his time to die.
I think of a time so long ago
relive the terror that always leaves me low.
Febo's back from Nam,
did he ever really go.
I close my eyes
wait for the light to rush in.
Listen for the sounds
of the far away place I had been.
An image forms,
Febo running for cover.
He heads for the dike
then runs no further.
I rush to my friend
heart filled with fear;
Febo's dead
but it doesn't seem real.
I lift his head
to close his eyes.
Curse at God
scream out "Why?"
His blood on my hands
so sticky and hot.
I look down at Febo
Febo smiled not.
The rain fell heavy
on the swollen rice paddy field.
The mound of dirt forming the dike
could have prevented the kill.
Mortars exploded
small arms fire struck everywhere.
I am alone with Febo
I no longer care.
I stay there forever
or so it seemed.
I entertained the thought
Vietnam was a horrible dream.
Febo's legacy a tableau
that's stamped in my mind.
Febo's gone
I'm still here.
Green blades of grass
reach up to the sky.
No one told Febo
it was his time to die...Why?
|
|
