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Heather B Reynolds Poem
None of us live forever were the words I'd often hear.
Words softly spoken from a man I held so dear.
He taught me to be brave and stand for what is right.
He said don't ever give up my child, never go down without a fight!
Hard lessons he once learned just after high school prom.
Drafted into the marine corps, destined for some place called Vietnam.
On a bus in the cover of darkness, the first leg of his journey began
Headed to Parris Island knowing he would soon become a man.
The bus was filled with young boys, sons and brothers just like he,
profoundly realizing what it meant to be American, to be free!
Drill Sergeants tore him down as they yelled at him and screamed.
Now he's just a number, rebuilt into a lean, mean, fighting machine.
His innocence and youth would soon be long gone.
His life forever changed when he landed in Vietnam.
He didn't know the politics much less the reasons why,
just forced to travel far away where he'd see so many die.
He had to pick up a gun and hit right where he aimed,
with the sole intent to kill a man, to wound him or even maim.
He had to kill his fellow man for reasons he didn't know.
It was kill or be killed or in a body bag home, he would go.
Death has its own smell, taste, sound and feel.
One that can break any man even ones made of steel.
"Were Fighting for their freedom!" so often it was said.
Tell that to a soldier that's forced to count the dead.
When his time was finally over and at last he was sent home.
He was greeted at the airport by protesters and cruelly spit upon.
He learned to keep his mouth shut and made to feel ashamed.
He never spoke about it because he felt he was to blame.
The flashbacks came so often as he would often see.
The faces of the people he killed, people just like he.
Agent orange ravaged his body and as he prepared to die.
It was time to come to terms with all he'd done and try to understand why?
It all became so clear, it was for freedom that he fought.
He fought for the people of Vietnam as it was liberty they desperately sought.
If he had to do it again he wouldn't change a thing.
He'd fight in a second to let freedom ring.
Now I'm in a war myself and one I'm too weak to win.
It's red tape and bureaucracy that will certainly do me in.
My body is now ravaged and gets weaker every day.
I'm not ready to give up yet but I see no other way.
I have private insurance but the doctors say I'm not sick.
I have four diseases that all come from a tick.
The treatments that I need, I can't afford to buy.
How do I explain to my young daughter that her mommy will soon die?
Do I send my daughter to college or buy medicines to save my life?
What will my family do without their mother and their wife?
I lay this poem here in hopes that someone will see.
Please help all the others too weak to fight, suffering silently.
Now I must teach my daughter to be brave and stand for what's right.
Don't ever give up my child, never go down without a fight!
A war cannot be fought without casualties.
Copyright © Heather B Reynolds | Year Posted 2017
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