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One Man's Dream |
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The soldier stands a lonely watch
as the winds flow softly around him
the war falling somehow silent behind him
its angry din rustling the pages of time
His gun is at-the-ready, still he dreams
as the leaves turn over slowly in his mind
scenes from the past...the bitter sorrows
his imagined tomorrows at this story's end
A quiet glen invades his brain with no remorse
with a moonlit river on a warm summer's eve
days filled with laughter...bright, pure and clean
devoid of the horrors his eyes have seen
With no reprieve, the images flow ethereal
constant reminders of the way life used to be
unmarred by war's unsanctified demolition
destroying any hope of one man's dream
Can he ever go back to the beginning of time
rip the pages from the splines of his war's tome
return home the man his family used to know
before his dreams were dashed against the shore
The smell of napalm leeches through the trees
embeds into his nostils the rancid odor of war
the finger of fate scribing his final hoary ending
its bloody nail silent, deadly; and inside he screams
Suffer the little children for the sins of the fathers
perpetuating the same old-yet-new acts of yore
ever-fighting...freshly-dying for a brighter tomorrow
with no way in sight to stop the circle of sorrow
Standing on the summit, eons pass before his eyes
former missions dig their teeth into his history
while monolithic conundrums refuse to subside
with each battle climax only agitating the mystery
What of tomorrow?...he wonders. Will he survive?
Will duty and honor be enough to withstand the day
this hour...this minute...this second...or will he die
watching his dream rush the blazing sun far away
Will his family know him when and if he returns?
What gifts of war will he bring his unborn children?
Can he lift the pieces of his life from the battle floor
put them back together and continue on as before?
Or will he forever be changed, standing a lone watch
waiting, praying for the author to create a new page
erase the painful leaves burning in his soul today
return his dream mankind so savagely stole away
As the hot winds of war swirl, crouching, close in
as peace and freedom vanish right in front of him
the Sun in Heaven, like Hell burning, now just a star
leaves him parched, thirsting still for mirages afar |
By Nancy L. Meek
Copyright 2002
Listed April 2, 2010 |
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About Author... Nancy is the proud wife of William "Billy" J. Meek, a Vietnam War
Veteran, who served with the 1st Cavalry Airmobile Division, 11th Aviation
Group, 228th Battalion, Co. B.
Nancy's website |
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