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After Fifty Years
You won't kill the spider that scurries
across the floor of our living room,
but you once killed solders at the Chosin.
You called them gooks, then,
now you know each was only a man
masked by the face of dehumanizing war.
After fifty years true faces turn toward you.
In life you never heard their voices,
in death they speak, and you agree,
the Forgotten War never can be.
Copyright ©
Chetta Achara
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