For the Fallen, the brave few

For the Fallen, the brave few . . .


My Promise

Many years have past since
I’d been a gung-ho youth of fourteen
Vietnam had been a child-like fantasy of
glory and honor cradling me proudly

almost daily I sat transfixed to
nightly news reports and the body counts
of the fallen soldiers never did
I think of war as hell

now I can’t forget the images of a smoke
and flash firefight and the dark rubber
bags being shuffled off to a waiting Huey
. . . I still hear the rhythm of its

blades slicing dead air in the background
as a reporter betrays the memories of the
fallen . . . we forget the gut retching
pains of war . . . stories left untold

pain knows no boundaries there
are no favorites only survivors . . . I
remember a time a friend and I went out
for a drink my buddy got up to get

another round he was gone only a moment
I hadn’t noticed the two men as they walked t
oward the bar . . . a raucous ensued
I heard fists pounding flesh

turning in my seat Mr. Hyde had one
by the throat the other was lying
unconscious next to a pool cue
jumping to my feet I pulled off

my chum my friend . . . it was
then I knew gazing into the face from
half a world away war had raised
its ghostly head once more

I am not afraid to die not for
myself . . . I’m afraid to live with the
pain of others which I have no control
I don’t know how to soothe a child

after losing a father or console a
mother standing before an earthen hole
burying her only son I’ve felt pity
for those crippled

I’ve felt remorse for those living with
regrets after losing a pal when they’re
convinced they died because of them
I don’t need to see another friend

put his service 45 to his head
I don’t need another heroic soldier’s
grave to visit another dark wall to
leave trinkets beside or scratch etchings

there was a time before
today . . . and I wish we’d never
sent women into battle I wish
we still thought like men

war is hell and our children
need not learn what we have learned
so many many many times before
I’ve never forgotten the promise of my

youth . . . never would I allow another
Vietnam . . . never would I sit by
and watch another needless war
but really . . . what could I do?


Dan Hanosh
Dreams are yours to Share


My Books: The World Outside My Window, AuthorHouse, 2004
Soon to come, Sleepless Nights


Links: Dreams Are Yours To Share
Warriors and Wars
The Moon Also Rises
dhanosh writingup
Dan Hanosh poemhunter.com
Dan’s Room 2 Write

Copyright © 2007 by Dan Hanosh. All rights reserved.

Technorati Tags: Dan Hanosh’s Warriors and Wars, dreamsareyourstoshare, themoonalsorises, Dan Hanosh’s Sleepless Nights, Dan Hanosh’s Sins of a Father, Dan Hanosh’s The World Outside My Window, needless war, Vietnam, the promise

Powered by ScribeFire.