Lord of Nothing

I am hearing the monks again Their silent screams in the streets of Saigon I thought they would leave me alone But I am haunted by their aura The bamboo vipers And the smile of the tigers Deep in the primordial Scream Why do they infect my soul? Why can I let them be and they me? It wasn’t even my war. I was too young to know The inequities of war Yet the birds fall around my feet Every time I smell burning flesh Perhaps I am too old for this skin of mine A young man told me tonight That he recognized me as a long lost grandfather From his Mayan roots Did I sacrifice other men to please the God’s? Or was I sacrificed and am now twice haunted. Gooseflesh. The hair on my neck stands ups. But what about the monks?