Forgotten




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"A Man is Not Dead Until he is Forgotten!"


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Doesn't Anybody Care About Me? By Jimi Raverty Hear me, help me, Uncle Sam, I'm a prisoner of war in Vietnam. I came to serve my blessed land, Now I'm confused on where I stand. They tell me that the war is through, But I have yet to see the proof. The man by the door still has a gun, And I have yet to see the sun. I've been here for eighteen years, My eyes are wet from longely tears. I pray some day that I may see, My lovely wife and family. Leeches live upon my skin, Parasites down deep within. Mosquitoes land upon my face, I've got to get out of this place! Men have died since I've been here, I feel my number's getting near. My vision's dim, it's hard to see, Doesn't anybody care about me?

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POW's Prayer
           By Jean Ray and L. Vancil

Father, 

Your own Son was a prisoner.
Condemned, He died for us.
Victorious, He returned to bring us the gift of life everlasting.
Comfort us now in our longing for the return of the
Prisoners Of War and those Missing In Action. 

Help us Father;
Inspire us to remove the obstacles.
Give courage to those who know the truth to speak out.
Grant wisdom to the negotiators, and compassion to the jailors.
Inspire the media to speak out as loudly as they have in the past.
Protect those who seek in secret and help them to succeed.
Show us the tools to do Your Will.
Guard and bless those in captivity, their families,
and those who work for their release. 

Let them come home soon. 

Thank you Father,
Amen. 

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W A I T I N G
         by Donna Ikeda - August 1995 


   I was just a boy when they sent me over here,
   I arrived with much bravado, which quickly turned to fear. 
   Like any other soldier, I acted brave and tough 
   But I knew that after thirteen months, I would have had enough. 
   But those things that I feared back then, like,
  "Is that flat stretch mined?" 
   Were normal combat worries; but not being left behind. 

    I was taken prisoner; now, many years ago, 
    I think about my family and wonder if they know 
   That I'm still alive - just barely - in the clutch of evil hands 
    I would gladly welcome death, but only back on U.S. land. 

    Many years ago I thought my rescue was at hand, 
    My country wouldn't let me rot, in this forsaken land. 
    I used to pray and hope, then hope and pray some more, 
    But now I know that hope, for me, means nothing anymore. 
    For it surely can't apply to me; I've come to terms with Death - 
    But I'd like to kiss the U.S. soil before my one last breath. 

    Are Mom and Dad still living? Did my wife meet someone new? 
    Did they have me declared dead, like grieving families do? 
    My children are adults now; have they married, are they well? 
    My love for them is all I have to go on in this here Hell. 

    My captors tell me everyday that here is where I'll die, 
    They said my fellow countrymen don't care -- is that a lie? 
    For the enemy are full of lies but sometimes truth's mixed in; 
    You try to sort out facts from lies and pray one day you'll win. 

    I have watched for many years now, most of my buddies die 
    From torture and starvation, or slave labor - I ask "WHY"? 
    Surely in my country, people try to find us still; 
    Please find me soon for I can feel I'm losing all my will. 

   Will you help free me and others here, or look the other way? 
    I know it's not a "cause celebre" and you'll be turned away 
    By the men high up in government, who'll tell you we're all dead, 
    But storm the gates, expose the lies and plod right on ahead. 
    For lying's not restricted solely to the Vietnamese - 
    In cities, towns and Washington, we have our share of these 
    Misguided politicians, traitors mostly, that's for sure; 
    For I'll bet they've never lost a son, or loved one in a war. 

    Think of me, and keep me in your thoughts and in your prayers; 
    Don't lose me in your memory; I need to know you care.       
    My captors may still have my body, but my spirit still flies free - 
    Please DON'T GIVE UP THE FIGHT or you'll destroy what's left of me. 

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The Unknown Soldier
   By: Patty O'Grady Aloot, Ph.D.
   Dedicated In Honor Of Her Father, 
Colonel John O'Grady  Missing-In-Action

   I'm the unknown soldier
   Who you refuse to know.
   I'm the brother and the friend
   You left so long ago.
   I'm a farmer from Missouri
   A soldier from St. Paul.
   I'm my sister's hero
   I'm the name on the Wall.

   I'm the unknown soldier
   The one you left behind.
   I'm the country boy from Texas
   Who you never tried to find. 

   I'm someone's long-lost daddy
   I'm my father's pride and joy.
   I was someone's gentle lover
  And someone's little boy. 

   I'm the unknown soldier
   With no tears to shed.
   I'm the ghost of Christmas past,
   I'm the living dead. 

   I'm a sailor and a scholar
   I'm the boy who lived next door.
   I'm the poet and the dropout,
   You sent to fight your war. 

   I'm the unknown soldier
   Who dreamed you'd rescue me.
   I'm the man who understands,
   Only death will set me free. 

   How could you just forget me?
   Should I forget you too?
  You must try to bring me home,
  For I belong to you. 

  I'm the unknown soldier
  Whose cries are all in vain.
  Would you finally come for me,
   If you could feel my pain? 

  My country has betrayed me
  But I've forgiven you.
  And, every night I pray to God,
  That He'll forgive you too. 

  I'm tired and I'm hungry
  I'm lonely and I'm cold.
  I'm the unknown soldier,
  Who's been bought and sold. 

  If you would look around you
  You would see my face.
  That man standing next to you,
  Could be here in my place. 

  I'm the unknown soldier,
  The one for who you cried.
  I'm the one that you can't face,
  The one they told you died. 

  We fought that war together,
  At Mu Gia and Pleiku.
  Had you been the one we left,
  I would have come for you. 

  I'm the unknown soldier
  Who longs to be set free.
  When you called, I answered,
   Now will you answer me? 

  I want to lie down beside you,
  I want to die in your arms.
  I just want you to hold me,
  And, help me to hang on. 

   I'm the unknown soldier,
  The one you threw away.
   Some call me POW....
   Some call me MIA....
   It is never too late to honor a Hero.

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All of the poetry above was used with permission of Canadian POW-MIA
Graphics provided by Ron Fleischer

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This page last updated on: Saturday, September 20, 1997 - 11:14 PM

© 1997 CyberGrandma