Respite, Khe Sanh

Long day ... Trudging jungle mud of the Da Krong On the dirty heels of Charlie ... At least eight skirmishes and a tunnel rout Our platoon weaned of three more The luck of the unlucky, headed home ... boxes We took eleven, and made an example (Look the other way - pray) Damned rain for five days straight ... heavy Like each drop carried our conscience Weighty with senseless death and our accursed "duty" Without dry socks we all suffer, horrid But tonight we camp in a clearing those three lives paid for A Khmer Rouge stronghold finally broken On my back in the tall grass Clouds dissipate as stars wink and gleam And just like that ... I'm a child Chasing fireflies on a swollen July eventide My siblings giggling like cowbirds Aromas of wet hay and Queen Anne's Lace Joy and ease and dreamy hopes Are these not the same shimmering suns and constellations? The same sparkled wash of Milky Way? The very same wound of heaven, beckoning? But those aren't giggles after all Just distant gunfire ... And the bitter, muddy maw Of reality. ~ 1st Place ~ in the "Strand No 670 Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.