Viet Nam Generation Journal & Newsletter
V3, N3 (November 1991)
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Poetry by Bill Shields
ghost poem
I've died
too soon
my blood
scarcely mattered
I was married once
had children
divorced
remarried
& before all that
I went to Vietnam
& after all that
I went to Vietnam
I saw the earth
splashed in blood
souls stabbed out
of living bodies
children dead
in their mothers' stomachs
human bodies blended
with high speed steel
I only believed
in myself
& today
I forgot
a pure ghost poem
I don't want to hear
your version of Vietnam
until you have the courage
to hold your dying mother's head
as she fills your lap
with bloody vomit
& dies in your arms
think of that moment
for twenty odd years
remember what you said
or more importantly, what you didn't do
dream of your cowardice
your absolute fear
& smell the room she held you
inhale the blood & hair
walk in her bones
till your wife finds you
crying in a back room
or a garage
I'll be there
with you
bawling
like a newborn
miles of bones
58,000 suicides
is a lot of bullets
wrecked cars
ruined veins
dead bottles
kids without fathers
American flags
& miles of dirt dug
58,000
the number of Vietnam
veteran suicides . . .
it equals the names
on the Wall
today: 7/09/91 8:10 p.m.
tomorrow
we'll exceed it
more suicide
than combat death
If you can't feel
this pain
you're already
dead
all these
bodies
floating
home
jingoism
I never wore a yellow ribbon
& I've bled for this country
no flag either
or "WELCOME HOME HEROES" bumper sticker on my car
I can't find one good thing to say
about American teen-agers firing extremely high-tech weaponry
against a virtually unarmed enemy
A parade for our heroes?
A parade for death?
What was the body count anyway?
How many Iraqi children died with our metal in their bones?
I'm not going to make a nineteen year old kid a hero
for having the innocence to kill
I have two Purple Hearts myself
for being young & stupid
& that is not an excuse
to fill a coffin