Sprayed ground meat: the only remains
from them, ― outside my memories.
Together: we laughed and cried and boasted
about future dreams with beautiful wives, and
children.
Never again.
Red and Green Mosaic: the jungle leaves with their splattered blood
flowed like my mourning tears; I knew:
None will ever drink a beer,
nor own a house,
nor meet his future wife,
or hold their babies to nurture
through little league
through wellness and sickness
to attend prom and college
and make grandchildren.
Never again.
(They only wanted to give those war torn children candies,
knowing future Dads should practice loving them,
Unknowing, ― that here: Children were often wired as bombs to explode.)
Never
will they have a birthday.
or reach the age of twenty
or vote, ― for the first time.
Never again.
I still cry...
by
James A. Porter
