"LOONS"Dad and I pitched a lean-to tent by the side
of the pond next to a small stream that ran freely with a chill unknown below in the lowlands.
For three
glorious days we fished and talked, living on our catch and exploring the deep into the ancient woods.
The nights so cool and dark, the stars so brilliant, it seemed as if you could reach out and touch them.
The silence, thick and blanketing so as you could hear your own thoughts as you watched the embers
of the fire climb their way skyward and disappear into nothingness.
I was seventeen!
The world as
I knew it then swept away from our mountain top campsite in every direction like like a pool of liquid running from a spill,
quiet and serene.
Half a world away, out of sight and out of earshot, but not out of mind, people with
uniforms were calling firestorms of death down onto the heads of people with black pajamas and conical
hats, and spoke of a light at the end of the tunnel.Our new president sought "Peace with Honor"!
To my
recollection I never asked my dad what he thought about "THE WAR" or "HIS" war either, mostly out of respect for his own tribulations in the Pacific. Subjects now lost forever were of more importance at the time.All the questions that needed be asked were touched upon or discussed at length
Save perhaps the most important one.
10,000 miles away men and boys soon to be my brothers suffered the pain of the folly of our own sense of national importance while the Loons on the glass surface of the
pond cried and bemoaned their tears and burden.
~THEN ~
The peace of the mountains was violently broken
in my dream, with screams of panic piercing the ears within my helmet.The sickening thud of rounds
violating the integrity of my machine and desperately seeking flesh. The balmy scent of the forest suddenly
replaced with sickening smells that penetrated my nostrils never to be forgotten. The fear was paralizing, griping my soul and choking the life from my heart
.
There was No Peace-No Honor,
only a struggle to survive.
The war had driven a
wedge of 15 years between us as I came to question the validity of life itself. I loathed the quiet of the
Adirondack high peaks for it reminded me of lost happiness and innocence. I feared my own thoughts
breaking throught the peaceful silence of the night, flooding throught the low hanging fog that rolled
relentlessly over my life while coping with the fires that seared my soul.
The sadness and
confusion of senseless loss had managed to tear us apart, not unlike it's effect on my beloved country.
Neither one of us could understand or cope with the silent, terrible enemy that stalked my sanity
and humanity,
like those pajama clad enemies of so many years ago.
Although we had to struggle to
understand, we never parted in love. For now our ties circumvented blood and embraced our commonality
of long borne pain and baptism by fire, the common bond of warriors.Thru the tears we began to understand.
Again, we climb the high peaks of our beloved Adirondacks together, a bit slower, with more pauses for
breath and thought.
Puffing and laughing at old stories, told inumerable times as before. Now aware of
each other in a new light, our weakness and strengths comitted to each other in trust, respect and love.
The important questions have now been answered.
The pain that lingered from the war was a wedge
that had sought to split our hearts and spirits. Stopping short of the heartwood, slowly healing with new growth.
We have come a long way to again dip our hands into the cool sweet water and drink from this high
mountain stream. The spruces light perfume in the air, reveling in resurected happiness, we step across the
silent mosses to the shore; listening, straining to hear, cries long gone.
" Where are the LOONS "?
Written for
my father; Fathers Day 1988
Dave
"A Time for Mourning"
From Saratoga to Saigon
In far off nameless places,
long lines of soldiers
with familiar names and faces.
The best of our country fought and died
in every American war.
Now we stand here united,
to honor 40 more!
To all who lost their life
in our country's longest war,
we harbor fond memories.
But we owe them so much more!
Some were boys, some were men,
some were in-between.
Each put aside his life and loves
to dress in battle green.
They hung up highschool letter jackets
workshirts and business suits,
They raised their hand and pledged to stand
defending out Honor and Roots!
Mercifully some died quickly,
others lingered in pain.
Four of our most valourous lost,
were never seen again!
The time is upon "US" to give,
and complete this needed chore,
To show they're not forsaken,
and forgotten any more!
Come together with us now,
as we have done before.
To honor our VALIANT WARRIORS,
not our senseless war!
Dave
Memorial Day 1988
This Poem was published in the TROY RECORD newspaper on Memorial Day 1988,
it was also delivered at the dedication of the "Rensselaer County Vietnam Memorial"
By myself as the Director of Veterans Services for my county on Veterans Day 1991.
Below is a photograph of the Bronze commissioned by us(RCVMC),
and placed at the center of our memorial park in Troy, NY.
Click on the picture of the bronze to go to the website of the Rensselaer County
Viet~Nam Memorial Committee.
Please take time to visit my friend LACYDAYS' Veterans Tribute. Thoughtfull and touching! One of my compositions featured here!
Also please take a minute to visit one of the most touching sites on the web!
One of my compositions posted here too!
If you are visiting this page on a link from another site, You can click here on "BACK HOME" to acess my Homepage and My Guestbook!
Dave
TO INDEX
******MORE WRITINGS TO BE POSTED SOON!******
MIDI:Pontchartrain "Traditional" Circa 1860
