Sparrowhawk
11-08-02, 12:17 PM
In remembrance of this day
November 8, 1967 ~
by Cook Barela
http://vietnamdiary.bizland.com/cook7.JPG
Photo taken on November 8, 1967
For years I have dreamed, I have seen this day,
this scene plays forever in my dreams;
I have visited this place in time,
in the visions of the night
In the dark shadows of pain
In the crevices of memories sealed forever long ago.
In dark shadows and in bright lights.
The faces change,
they are dark and they are black,
and my hand holds my weapon in tight
Up against my cheek
And my weapon will not fire
And I hunger for rest
I seek the pain and the sorrows of war
My head aches and drops of sweat
Blanket my mind
Soiled by time
The wet drops flow slowly down between my eyes
teasing, stinking my eyes, with their salty embrace
The wind blows, and slowly caresses
The green grass before my eyes
In the wet rice paddy fields
The grass waves, and gives way
To show me the horror and pain
The tears of the mind
Take revenge for what I cannot
for what I will not do
but my soul craves to fire
to set the captives free
but my hand will not move
and when it does my weapon will not fire.
The terror of the day, the visits of the night
Is ever before me and I cry in its pain
And only the rain of fire from the sky
sets me free
All day long, the enemy runs before me
All day long I ache in pain
My gun stands still
In hunger and desires
to touch the weakest soul
and take away the breath of life
For this I live
For this I cry
They run before me
Laughter and pain its all the same
400, 700 ~ 800 yards away
I can touch them
If I dare
My finger on the trigger
My mind is clear
It will not hear the voices
That are not there
but I can not, I will not open up
sandwiched in between
the fleeing enemy soldiers
are the women, and the child,
the crippled with age
Young beautiful women, full of life
Already dead
Beautiful young girls and the children
That cry
I could hit the enemy with a burst of fire,
This I know, but oh, oh, my soul
I dare not open up
They push they shove and life is vain
Life is gone’
There is no laughter
And the air has no smell
And time waits for no one
But for the angel of death at the door
But in the end
it made no difference
the phantom jets came
and dropped the white clouds of fire
and the rain from hell
melted heaven’s door
The darkness and the pain,
the fear and the joy of relief
The anger and the desire to set right
what had been wronged
flees now with the night
The enemy decimated
drained of life before my eyes
and so were the little children
and the young women
once forced to run with the demons of hell
The planes dropped their loads
And as the dark gray clouds of death
Rose to the sky
the enemy fired at the silver bullets
but death and destruction was at their door
and their cries rose high, higher than the sky
then the silver angels lingered in the air
dipped their wings and said goodbye
The blackened sky bellowing farewell
My soul would find no rest in hell
November 8, 1967 ~
by Cook Barela
http://vietnamdiary.bizland.com/cook7.JPG
Photo taken on November 8, 1967
For years I have dreamed, I have seen this day,
this scene plays forever in my dreams;
I have visited this place in time,
in the visions of the night
In the dark shadows of pain
In the crevices of memories sealed forever long ago.
In dark shadows and in bright lights.
The faces change,
they are dark and they are black,
and my hand holds my weapon in tight
Up against my cheek
And my weapon will not fire
And I hunger for rest
I seek the pain and the sorrows of war
My head aches and drops of sweat
Blanket my mind
Soiled by time
The wet drops flow slowly down between my eyes
teasing, stinking my eyes, with their salty embrace
The wind blows, and slowly caresses
The green grass before my eyes
In the wet rice paddy fields
The grass waves, and gives way
To show me the horror and pain
The tears of the mind
Take revenge for what I cannot
for what I will not do
but my soul craves to fire
to set the captives free
but my hand will not move
and when it does my weapon will not fire.
The terror of the day, the visits of the night
Is ever before me and I cry in its pain
And only the rain of fire from the sky
sets me free
All day long, the enemy runs before me
All day long I ache in pain
My gun stands still
In hunger and desires
to touch the weakest soul
and take away the breath of life
For this I live
For this I cry
They run before me
Laughter and pain its all the same
400, 700 ~ 800 yards away
I can touch them
If I dare
My finger on the trigger
My mind is clear
It will not hear the voices
That are not there
but I can not, I will not open up
sandwiched in between
the fleeing enemy soldiers
are the women, and the child,
the crippled with age
Young beautiful women, full of life
Already dead
Beautiful young girls and the children
That cry
I could hit the enemy with a burst of fire,
This I know, but oh, oh, my soul
I dare not open up
They push they shove and life is vain
Life is gone’
There is no laughter
And the air has no smell
And time waits for no one
But for the angel of death at the door
But in the end
it made no difference
the phantom jets came
and dropped the white clouds of fire
and the rain from hell
melted heaven’s door
The darkness and the pain,
the fear and the joy of relief
The anger and the desire to set right
what had been wronged
flees now with the night
The enemy decimated
drained of life before my eyes
and so were the little children
and the young women
once forced to run with the demons of hell
The planes dropped their loads
And as the dark gray clouds of death
Rose to the sky
the enemy fired at the silver bullets
but death and destruction was at their door
and their cries rose high, higher than the sky
then the silver angels lingered in the air
dipped their wings and said goodbye
The blackened sky bellowing farewell
My soul would find no rest in hell