Nam

 The marine, now mateless, sunk his spade.
 Shaken by day's flirtation with the reaper's edge
 and aching from Ares' relentless blade
 driving deep into men of war his wedge
 that splits the natural human will to be
 content in touch with God's idyllic yields
 unassociated with ambition's fee
 for dealings incongruent with greening fields.
 
 Pride was the anvil for defoliating tools:
 but an hour ago his digging mate,
 killed in compliance with red-eyed rules,
 was a patriot supreme but used as bait
 cast by Power's enterprising ghouls
 who stock piranha — grimness into glory's creek to devour the innocence of nature's schools,
 despite what common man is keyed to seek.

 Coiled in his soggy home for another quiet night,
 he picks a star, once a foxhole mate, now eternal light.
 
 His eyes squeeze shut; he fears the dawn
 when yawns the thunderous valley of death
 asserting terror by explosive brawn
 as the squad undaunted mid the dying breath
 regains the bloody river bank it lost
 to defenders of home and wretched land,
 pledged to die despite the odds and cost
 for what we once were proud to understand.

Copyright © 2000 from "Impressions" Richard R. Kennedy All rights reserved. Revised: January 6, 2004.