Vietnam — 10 14 58
I was 10 when I learned there was war going on
Because I had a friend whose daddy was gone
To a faraway place, for far, far too long
He lived in a prison camp in Vietnam
I was too young to know what it meant
I saw pictures on TV as I came and I went
Through our living room – but I felt the chill in the air
As my mom changed the station, but continued to stare
Nearly six years in all, then in ‘73
That father returned to his family
The happy reunion, a beautiful sight
But he had to go home to his thoughts in the night
About where he had been and what he had seen
His life back and forth from nightmare to dream
Carrying on, with thoughts moving so fast
Toggling between his future and past
I was 14 when the fighting was stopped
I was busy in school and somehow forgot
That there was a war even harder to win
Soldiers still fighting their battles within
Battles with memories and questions and fears
Battles with nightmares and anger and tears
Battles that raged in the weak and the strong
Battles in those who lived Vietnam
This was a war that left us confused
Was it misread intentions or power misused?
Do we try to remember or try to forget?
Or just accept there are no answers as yet?
Everyone hoping to unravel the mystery
Of those difficult years, now part of our history
Trying to learn from the highs and the lows
Then leaving to God what He only knows
It’s hard to believe now that decades have passed
Some memories have faded, but some tend to last
I’ve never forgotten my friend and her father
But now that I’m older, my view is much broader
Because at age 58, I am privileged to know
Those who have helped me to learn and to grow
You wear ball caps with stitching and black leather vests
A touch of your past is worn on your chests
Medals and badges and pins on your clothes
The rest of your story hides somewhere below
It isn’t my place to impose or to pry
But I see something rare when I look in your eyes
To know how you feel, I will never pretend
That honor’s reserved for your comrades and friends
But I know there is One who does understand
Your name is written in scars on His hands
He was beaten and ridiculed, spat upon, too
Misjudged and hated, mocked just like you
In anguish and pain you’re in divine company
He suffered alone in Gethsemane
Yes, soldier and Savior in ways are the same
Giving their lives in humanity’s name
Standing for freedom, honor and peace
Serving brother and mother, supplying relief
This is a cross not easy to bear
In so many ways it doesn’t seem fair
But when in the end, you’ve completed your mission
Like Jesus, you, also, will rise from your prison
For in the darkest of times, great souls are defined
In the hottest of fires, gold is refined
In the sweltering miles from Hanoi to Saigon
You were forged in the furnace called Vietnam
Copyright 2019 Andrea Christensen Brett
