Ghost Of Iwo Jima
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    Ghost Of Iwo Jima

    Ghost Of Iwo Jima
    Lon Woodrum
    Leatherneck Magazine
    Gyrene Gyngles
    October of 1968

    The living warrior never said
    The things that burned within his head:
    The word was uttered by the broken dead
    I died at dawn, bent toward a thunder island,
    Wallowing upon gun-gutted sand
    I could not sleep in that strange land;
    I have returned to New York towers,
    New England hills and Kansas plains;
    To gentle towns with quiet hours
    And temples singing in the sun.
    I have returned with one desire:
    To see what you have done
    With what I bought upon that strip of fire.
    Red ran my blood
    Upon a beach whose name I scarcely knew:
    So men could speak aloud their dreams and hopes before a crowd,
    Or pray their prayers to God,
    And not be stood before a firing squad.
    And it was not alone for Yanks I fell
    It was for Britons, French, Chinese,Israelis, Africans and Poles;
    For all the disinherited, tormented souls
    In all the agonizing earth and sea
    Scarred by the boots of tyranny
    And all the clever tongues have lied
    Who said it was for Less than this I died
    The little people of the world looked
    And watched me running where the red beach shook;
    The little broken, beaten brothers;
    The homeless children and their mothers;
    The noble men reduced to less than tramps
    Who rotted in the concentration camps;
    The keepers of the truth...
    they stood that dawn
    And shouted silently, "Go on! Go on!"
    For they all knew, oh, they knew why
    I had to run across that beach and die.
    I could not sleep in that far land;
    I have returned to where your cities stand,
    to your churches on the sleepy street,
    And golden miles of unhurt wheat.
    I have returned to hear the laughter in your children's throats
    And watch the little people cast their votes.
    I have come back to see what you who live
    Have done with what I died to give.
    The living warrior had not said
    The things that burned within his head:
    The word was uttered by the broken dead

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  2. #2
    Great post, Dave....

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