Our Fate

We fought the enemy in the jungle so dense,

Bamboo thickets growing like a picket fence.

Each step halted by “Wait a minute vines,”

Entangling the earth like endless twine.

To clear the jungle they had to spray,

Slow death to surface another day.

Our children born retarded, some maimed & blind,

The effects of the spray have not been kind.

I survived my hell, I did not die,

I feel their pain, I hear them cry.

We did not lose, we did not win,

Our children are paying for our dreadful sin.

I hurt inside; the pain is so real,

It’s not for me but for the children I feel.

I went to war, I made it home,

Please let me do the suffering, me alone.

Michael D. Monfrooe

Dedicated to the children on both sides that suffered.