Veterans Memorial

A SOLDIER DIED TODAY


He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast;
and he sat around the Legion telling stories of the past;
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done.
In his exploits with his buddies, they were heroes everyone.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors his tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened, For they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer for ol' Bob has passed away,
and the worlds a little poorer, for a soldier died today.


He won't be mourned by many, just his children and his wife;
for he lived an ordinary, Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family, quietly going his way;
and the world won't note his passing 'Tho a soldier died today.


When politicians leave this earth their bodies lie in state;
while thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories from the time that they were young;
but the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
some jerk who breaks his promise and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who in time of war and strife
goes off to serve his country and offers up his life?

The politician's stipend and the style in which he lives
are sometimes disproportionate to the service he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal And perhaps a pension, small.

It's so easy to forget them, For it is so long ago
that our Bob's and Jim's and Johnny's went to battle;but we know,
It was not the politicians with their comprimise and ploys
who won for us the freedon that our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger with your enemies at hand
would you really want some cop-out with his ever waffling stand?
Or would you want a soldier who has sworn to defend his home, his kin,
and country and would fight until the end?


He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
but his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict then we find the soldier's part
is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor while he's here to hear the praise
Then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in the paper that might say:


"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING FOR A SOLDIER DIED TODAY"

"HELLO, DAVID"  
Hello, David--my name is Dusty.
I'm your night nurse.
I will stay with you.
I will check your vitals
every 15 minutes.
I will document
inevitability.
I will hang more blood
and give you something
for your pain.
I will stay with you
and I will touch your face.

Yes, of course,
I will write your mother
and tell her you were brave.
I will write your mother
and tell her how much you loved her.
I will write your mother
and tell her to give your bratty kid sister
a big kiss and hug.
What I will not tell her
is that you were wasted.

I will stay with you
and I will hold your hand.
I will stay with you
and watch your life
flow through my fingers
into my soul.
I will stay with you
until you stay with me.

Goodbye, David---my name is Dusty.
I'm the last person
you will see.
I'm the last person
you will touch.
I'm the last person
who will love you.

So long, David--my name is Dusty.
David--who will give me something
for my pain?

©1987 by Dusty 

After Nam 
by Sean McGowen * 

NO HONOR, NO DIGNITY, 
NO SELF RESPECT OR PRIDE. 
NOT FOR US WHO LIVED AND 
NOT FOR THOSE WHO DIED. 
* 
ITS NOT WRONG TO TALK LIKE THIS, 
WEVE GOT TO GET IT SAID. 
MAYBE WE'LL REST MORE EASY, 
AFTER WE ARE DEAD. 
* 
AMERICA USED TO BE SO PROUD 
IT'S SOLDIERS STOOD SO TALL, 
BUT THEN THE MONEY GRABBERS CAME 
AND MADE US TAKE THE FALL. 
* 
BUT COMING HOME WAS SOMETHING ELSE, 
THE PEOPLE MADE IT CLEAR. 
YOU'RE WRONG, AN ANIMAL 
FROM US YOU'LL GET NO CHEER. 
* 
FROM OTHER WARS THE MEN ARE PROUD, 
THE HOLD THIER HEADS UP HIGH. 
FROM OUR WE HANG OUR HEAD 
AND SOMETIMES EVEN CRY. 
* 
YOU HELD THE WORLD BEFORE US 
WE WERE FOLLOWING YOUR RULES. 
IT WASN'T US WHO STARTED THE WAR, 
WE WERE FIGHTING ONE OF YOUR DUELS. 
* 
SO DON'T HATE US FOR YOUR PRINCIPLES 
AND DESPISE US ALL OF OUR LIVES. 
THE DRUMS WERE BEATING 
WE HEEDED THE PLAYING OF THE FIFE. 
* 
IT WASN'T A WAR I HEARD IT SAID, 
WE WERE LENDING A HELPING HAND. 
BUT 60,000 DEAD BOYS LATER 
WE GAVE UP THAT MIGHTY STAND. 
* 
THE PAIN AND SUFFERING 
ALL THAT WE KNOW IS TRUE. 
BUT AGENT ORANGE NOW SETS THE RULES, 
THE BODY COUNTS NOT THROUGH. 
* 
BUT THERE'S ONE MORE THING THAT MUST BE SAID 
AND WE WANT IT SAID OUT LOUD. 
"HAD WE BEEN IN YOUR WAR, DAD, 
WE WOULD HAVE MADE YOU PROUD." 
* 

My Dead Are Not Silent" ~Dusty

My dead are not silent.
They scream in my dreams.

My dead are not still.
They reach for their mothers.

My dead are young soldiers
spent, wasted, discarded.

They paid the price
for political ploys
for strategic follies
for tactical errors.

The politicians and planners
the orderers and senders
discomfited but unshamed
demand that my dead lie quiet
that my grief be smothered
that my ache be shunned
that my memories be denied.

But my dead will not be stilled
They will not be shelved
numbered
catalogued
straightened
into sanitized rows.
Their blood yet drips through my soul
Their moans still echo through my heart.

My dead demand remembrance
My dead demand honor
My dead demand that lessons be learned.
I hear them still
through my dreams
through my laughter
through my prayers

My dead are not silent.

©1991, 1996 by Dusty 
Originally appeared in Visions of War, Dreams of Peace, Warner Books, 1991. 
Eds. Lynda Van Devanter and Joan Furey.

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